Crazy
by ohhsnap
Summary: Johnny&Dally. He's the kind of guy that even though you can't always count on him to be there when you need him, he's got your back if he happens to show up.
1. Chapter 1

It's like one of those horror movies where you can't do much but cover your eyes and hope the main character doesn't open the door because whatever's behind it is bad news. You can't help but peek through your fingers since you want to know what happens, and you always end up startled even though you knew something would jump out at you from the screen. It's why you watch the movie in the first place.

That's kind of what it's like to be in love with Dallas Winston.

Well, maybe I won't call it love. Love isn't a very tuff word, though I'm sure Ponyboy wouldn't agree with me. He's always thinking about real deep stuff like that. He'd probably say something like being in love makes you strong or brave. That's just the way he is, I guess. As for me, I think being in love makes you even more of a wimp than you are without it. When you're in love you gotta be careful not to hurt or get hurt, or else it ain't worth it. It's all or nothing and that's real scary, at least to me.

I knew I shouldn't have let it happen, anyway. It was a stupid move to make. I'm always making stupid moves, though, so I don't know why I was so surprised when I figured it out. And it was real sudden, too. It was almost like I woke up one morning, sat up and said it out loud. It sounded weird to say, but for some reason it sounded right, even though it was wrong. I'm not too good at right and wrong. I like what feels good and what makes everyone else happy. Shoot, sometimes I don't blame my old man when hits me. If it makes him feel better, then maybe it's all right.

It felt right to hide it, at least, because the whole thing was wrong from the start. What kind of an idiot goes around shouting that kind of thing from the rooftops, anyway? Dally would probably kick my ass and never talk to me again if I ever said anything. Heck, if Dally can get mad enough to knock some kid's teeth out just for asking him to move over at the candy store counter, I don't want to think about what he'd do if I ever told him I liked the way he put his arm around my shoulders when he was too drunk to find his way back to Tim Shepard's by himself. Or how much I hated his girlfriend and the way she couldn't keep her greedy hands off him whenever they went to the drive in with me and Pony. Yeah, if Dally ever found out how much I liked him, he'd murder me on the spot and not care one way or the other about going to jail for it.

It's just that he's so tuff and I'm...not. He's the kind of guy who can talk big and actually back it up, not like Two-Bit Matthews or Curly Shepard. The kind of guy that even though you can't always count on him to be there when you need him, he's got your back if he happens to show up. Dally's different than Ponyboy or Two-Bit. He ain't movie star good-looking like Pony's brother Soda, and he ain't real responsible like Pony's other brother Darry. I don't know what he is. I just wish I could be sort of like him instead of defenseless little Johnny Cade. Poor ol' Johnnycake who can't sleep in his own bed all the time because his old man can't stop smackin' him around long enough for his head to hit the pillow.

Maybe I'm just crazy. I've been called lots of things before, but never crazy, so I guess it makes sense for me to be nuts. I wish it could have stayed that way, me thinkin' I'm nuts and no one else knowing. But sooner or later, the crazy ones always seem to confess.


	2. Chapter 2

"Johnnycake? Hey, Johnny, c'mon, wake up." Someone was shaking me by the shoulders, real rough. I groaned and rolled over, pulling the pillow over my head. My tongue was thick in my mouth and my head felt all foggy like my room would get when I'd try to sneak a smoke and forget to open a window to let the air in. The last thing I wanted to do was get up. 

"Mmmpphhh..." For some reason, my whole body felt stiff, like I'd swam for a long time and had gone right to bed without even getting out of my swim suit. "It's Saturday, ain't it? Let me sleep in..."

Whoever it was shook me harder, which made the whole bed shake, too. "Johnnycake, it's the middle of the afternoon! Now c'mon, we need another player for football!" He made a sort of anxious noise before snatching up the pillow and whapping me over the head with it.

"Aw, shoot, leave me alone." I covered my head with my hands to protect myself. Whoever it was sure as hell wanted me to play. "Ow, that hurts! Can't you just get Ponyboy to play instead?"

"He's already playin'!"

Turns out it was Soda who was pulling at my arms and tryin' to get me up. Suddenly the room spun and before I knew what was happening, he'd grabbed me and lifted me up out of the bed so he could fling me over his shoulder. Soda's not that much bigger than me, but he's easily twice as strong as I am. I'm the littlest of the gang next to Ponyboy, but I don't mind it so much, though I sure would have liked to have gone back to sleep right then.

"Soda, quit it! I'm up, I'm up!" I struggled to get away as he carried me down the hall towards the Curtis' kitchen. It isn't that uncommon for me to spend the night at their place. Darry likes me enough that he doesn't say anything when I turn up at their house late at night looking for any bed that's not mine to sleep in. The only problem with crashing at their house is Darry usually makes me go to school with Ponyboy the next morning. I hate school almost as much as I hate getting up early, and that's a lot. That's probably why I don't go too often. It's not like I don't like to learn, it's that I'm too dumb to remember any of it for very long. I'm real slow and that frustrates teachers. Pony's better at getting the stuff they try to make us learn. He's always got his nose buried in a book or writing something down, trying to figure out things I can't even begin to get. I wish I could get grades half as good as his. Soda's not real book smart, which is why he quit school a while back, but we all know Darry could've gone to college if their folks hadn't died in that accident. Ponyboy thinks it's his fault Darry can't go to college like he wants to, but there's no use feeling bad over it 'cause that won't change things.

"Too late! You're playin' whether or not you're awake. It just makes it easier for us to win if you're not!" Soda wasn't bothered by my thrashing around at all. The only thing my struggling did was make him hold on tighter. He was grinning from ear to ear when we reached the kitchen where Ponyboy, Two-Bit and Steve were drinking Pepsis. I couldn't see straight hanging upside down, but I could make out Steve sitting on the counter and Two-Bit slouching against the refrigerator. Pony was at the table, one arm slung over the back of his chair as he finished the rest of his drink. Two-Bit grinned when he saw Soda haul me in. He messed my hair, making faces at me as I hung from Soda's shoulder.

"Mornin', sunshine!" he teased, chuckling as Soda adjusted his hold on me."You done getting your beauty rest, Cinderella?" It felt like all the blood had drained to my head. "You better let 'em down, Soda, he looks about ready to puke."

Steve grinned. "You know what'll take care of an upset stomach?" By now Ponyboy had grabbed the football and was making his way towards the back door. "Three-on-two football!"

"Geez, Steve, you know three-on-two ain't fair," Soda argued as he carried me to the back porch while Two-Bit and Pony tossed the football back and forth. The screen door banged shut behind us as we stepped out into the lawn. Gosh, but it was bright outside.

"I was thinkin' you and me would be on one side and Matthews and the munchkins'd be on the other." Things went right side up as Soda let go of me and let me drop onto the grass. I rolled over and sat up. It took a second for my vision to clear; I'd been hanging upside down for longer than I'd thought.

"Munchkins nothin'," I heard Pony grumble. He doesn't like Steve much, but that's only because Steve doesn't like him back. Steve always seems to throw these awful looks at Ponyboy whenever he thinks Soda ain't lookin'. As far as I know, he doesn't have a problem with me, but I try to stay on his good side anyway. Better safe than sorry, I think.

"Yeah, alright." Looking satisfied, Soda nodded and held out his arms for the football. "Toss it here, Matthews, we get first play."

"Hell no, Curtis. There's no way you get the ball first if I've gotta play with a fuckin' handicap," Two-Bit shook his head, digging his fingers into the football. "If I get the twerps, then that means I get first dibs on the skin."

Ignoring him, Pony ambled over to me, holding out a hand. He hoisted me to my feet, patting me on the back. "S'okay, Johnnycake, we could whip 'em, even without Two-Bit," he muttered. He sounded more like he was convincing himself than me, but I understood what he meant.

"Yeah," I grinned at him, wondering why we always got stuck on a team with Matthews. "Yeah, sure we could."

I never was any good at football. I'm way too small. There ain't much I'm good at, come to think of it. It was so warm outside that day, too, which just made it worse. By the high point of the game, my jeans were covered in grass stains and I was beat. Playing football on a tired, empty stomach ain't a good idea.

"Glory, Matthews, don't you know a _thing _about football?"

Somehow Steve and Two-Bit always manage to get into a fight whenever they play against each other. They're good at working together to gang up on everyone else when the two of them play on the same team, but they can never seem to agree on something when they play on different ones. It's almost like the rules change depending on who's on what team.

"Shit, Randall, you shouldn't be talking! You actually call that last move a pass?" Two-Bit knew there was nothing that got Steve more worked up than being bashed for his passes.

"Damn straight I do!"

"Well, I think you've cracked!"

"Oh, yeah?"

Without much warning Steve lunged at Two-Bit, and the two of them fell to the ground like rocks. Two-Bit pushed Steve off him and tried to shove him away, but Steve grabbed Two-Bit's jacket and pulled it over his face. "Say mercy!" The whole scene looked pretty ridiculous, what with Two-Bit's arms flailing around as he tried to get a hold on Steve.

"Hey, hey! Break it up!" Soda grabbed Randall and tried to haul him off Two-Bit but lost his balance, falling over backwards and taking Steve with him. The three of them ended up wrestling each other to see who could pin who down for the longest. It didn't last long before Two-Bit won and they flopped down in the grass. We were all tuckered out, anyway.

"What in the Sam Hill are you knuckleheads doing?" I glanced up to see Darry climbing out of his car, which was making a sort of tinkering noise as he shut off the ignition and came to stand out on the driveway. "Christ, can't I go to the store for five minutes without you tearing up the backyard?"

"Hey Superman, wanna play football?" Two-Bit asked Darry lazily, lifting his head up to get a better look at him. He was on his back in the grass, staring up at who knows what.

"If he plays, I'm out," Steve added in. He was propped up on his hands looking at his feet. Soda laughed as he layed next to Steve with his hands behind his head, his eyes closed. "I'm serious! You think I'm dumb enough to try and tackle the Man of Steel?"

"I could take 'em," Soda said, his eyes still closed and a grin on his face.

"You want to run that by me again, little buddy?" Darry challenged, shutting the car door and motioning for Pony to toss him the ball.

I don't think I need to tell you that Darry whipped Soda and Steve without trying very hard. He didn't need help from Pony, Two-Bit or me. It wasn't even a close game. Soon after it ended, Two-Bit said he had to get going or he'd be late for something. No one ever really knows what Two-Bit does when he's not hanging out at the Curtis', but then again no one cares enough to find out. Steve and Soda were planning to take the Evie and Sandy to the drive in, which meant Pony wouldn't be going with them. Darry headed in to make an early dinner, so it was just me and Ponyboy left outside.

I snatched up my jean jacket that I'd tossed near a tree during the game and slipped it on. It was getting chilly and I noticed for the first time that the sun was setting. Maybe I hang around Ponyboy too much, but I've been starting to like sunsets as much as he does. Something about them makes me feel relaxed. I guess that's the difference between me and Dally. I like sunsets and he likes slashing people's car tires.

I patted the pockets of my jacket, looking for a pack of cigarettes. "Want a smoke?" I offered them to Pony and he took one, pulling out his lighter and cupping his hands to light the end of the weed. He tossed me the lighter and I did the same, taking a long drag. Smoking always makes him look older, as if he was my age, and I'm only a year younger than Dally. I know I don't look it, but I've been 16 for almost 9 months now.

We stood in silence for a little while, just being real quiet. Me and Pony seem to be the only people we know who can do that. Two-Bit can't keep his mouth shut to save his life, and Soda doesn't like to sit still for very long 'cause he gets bored easy. Dally don't get what's so great about silence, and Steve would rather be somewhere with Evie rather than watch the sun go down. But to me, nights like this beat out sleeping in the vacant lot a few blocks away, or sleeping in my room because I know I'm welcome here all the time and I can be as quiet as I like.

Pony flicked the cigarette butt onto the ground, kicking at a stone nearby. "C'mon, let's go inside. Looks like it's gonna be dark soon." The sun was almost down now, and the colors in the sky were just about faded. I nodded and dropped my cigarette, grinding it into the pavement with the heel of my shoe. We climbed the steps and went in just as the sun disappeared behind the clouds.


	3. Chapter 3

It's not that I don't like girls. Don't get me wrong or nothin'. I like hearing their soft voices and smelling their perfume as they walk past. Sometimes it gets hard to resist wanting to touch their arms and necks and run my fingers through their hair, but I could never touch a girl if she didn't want me to. Shoot, I could never touch a girl even if she _did_ want me to. I don't know the first thing when it comes to havin' a girlfriend, and I figure I probably wouldn't make a very good boyfriend anyway. Besides, girls don't notice me too often. At least, not the kinds of girls I know. 

Greaser girls are different than Soc girls. They wear short skirts that show off their long legs and high heels that clack against the ground when they walk. They cuss and smoke a lot and don't pay much attention to guys like me. They put on too much makeup and have grabby hands like Dally's girl Sylvia. Greaser girls like to drive fast and hate bein' tied down to just one guy. They love fights and are always giggling about one thing or another.

Soc girls, on the other hand, never cuss. They wear bright colored dresses and do their hair in neat ponytails. They sit with their legs together and hold hands with the boys they fancy. Soc girls drink root beer floats with the money they get for allowance and love cheer leading like that Cherry Valance girl Ponyboy seems to like so much. The only thing I don't like about them is they glare at us just like the guys they date. And they're everywhere. It's tough to get away from them because no matter where you go, there's bound to be a Soc or two hangin' around.

I hate Socs.

I hate the way they think they're better than us when all that's different between us is money. I know plenty of guys that have nothin' and are smarter than any Soc around. Bein' a greaser means the Socs think they can give us a hard time whenever they run out of things to waste their money on or get too bored just fighting each other. They never fight fair, either. They'll gang up on one or two of us and use pipes or heaters if they feel like it.

There ain't much I hate in this world, to be real honest with you. Sure, I hate my folks and school and the cough I got from smoking, but when you think about it, that ain't much. Maybe that's why I can't stand Socs. I use up all that extra hate I've got stored away to use on them. Shoot, they deserve it, after what they did to me.

I thought I knew what rock bottom was before but I was way off. I've never felt lower than right after they got ahold of me. I hadn't had a chance at all. They hadn't even given me a head start. Those Socs'd had been on me before their car had come to a stop along the sidewalk, before I'd had time to count how many of them there were. It hadn't mattered how loud I screamed or how hard I had begged them to let me go. They didn't care. Socs never care. I was just somethin' to beat the tar out of for a while. And they'd laughed, loud and crazy like. Especially that Bob kid, the one with the class rings that cut my face up so bad. He was the one that got to me first and knocked me square in the jaw. My dad'd hit me there before, but his punches've never hurt like that one did. I can still feel it if I move my jaw just right. I'd taken off at a run towards the other side of the street and one of them grabbed my jacket but I shook it off and tried to keep on running. They'd caught up to me and thrown me to the ground, kicking me wherever they could and holding me down so I couldn't get away. Somewhere in the midst of things I heard someone pull a switch blade, but before they'd been able to use it a cop car had 'rounded the corner and the four of them scattered faster than they'd jumped out of their Mustang in the first place. The cop car'd rolled on by like everything had been perfectly all right.

That's the thing about the fuzz; they don't give a hoot about anyone who ain't a Soc. Sure, they'll break up a rumble every so often, or throw a greaser in the slammer for drinkin' too much, and they love it when a one of us breaks into someone's house, but when a greaser gets jumped or cheated they never seem to notice much. If they'd seen me laying there in the middle of the vacant lot bleeding to what I thought was my death, they sure as hell didn't let on. They just drove on down the street.

It hurt so bad. It hurt to breathe, to blink, to move, to talk. After the fuzz'd gone by I heard footsteps running down the sidewalk. For a split second I thought the Socs'd come back to finish me off, but I couldn't have moved if I had wanted to. I'd been totally vulnerable and that's something you never want to be if you can help it. That's all I can tell you 'cause I don't remember much else 'cept bein' in more pain than I'd ever been in before. I think I started bawling like a little baby but I don't like to think about it. Soda says the rest of the gang found me not too long after the Socs'd split, but the only thing that rings a bell is someone lifting me off the ground and carryin' me like they thought I would break in half if they didn't grab onto me tight enough.

"That was Dally," Ponyboy'd said after I'd woken up in his room later that night. "He carried you back to our house and wouldn't let anyone else but Soda touch you or nothin'. He looked like he was about to have a heart attack or somethin', the way he was actin'. Man, Johnny, he was white as a sheet."

I remember feeling even more useless than I already had when I'd heard him say it. Now I wasn't just poor ol' Johnny Cade, I was poor ol' Johnny Cade who wasn't smart enough todefend himself from getting the shit kicked out of him. On the other hand, some part of me saw comfort in Dally bein' so worried about me. He'd always been tuff as nails and didn't seem to care about anyone or anything as long as he could still get drunk or fight in rumbles, and to hear about him bein' stressed out was a big deal. Dally only got worked up over fist fights, poker and girls, as far as I knew. Turns out I was wrong.


	4. Chapter 4

Sundays are the best days of the week if you ask me, 'cause on sunday Darry makes pancakes for anyone that shows up in their kitchen that morning, and his pancakes are better than anything else I've ever tasted. They're the only things worth getting up early for, actually. Darry's a good cook, much better than Soda, whose last batch of pancakes turned out bright orange. He was the only one who ate them that time, though.

The rest of the gang was up way before me. Even when I wake up early I'm still the last one up. I can't help it, I sleep real deep and it's tough to get me out of bed.

"Hey, Johnnycake," Soda grinned at me. Darry nodded at me from over at the stove where he was flipping a new normal colored batch. "Sleep okay?"

"Yeah." I flopped down in the chair next to him, rubbing my eyes with the back of my hand.

Just then the screen door banged open and the kitchen was filled with Two-Bit's voice. "Oh man, he's in for it now, the sonnova bitch!" He came bounding in all excited about somethin'.

"What're you yappin' about now?" Darry looked annoyed as Two-Bit reached over his shoulder and stuck a finger in the extra batter. "Christ, Two-Bit, get away from the stove! The rest of us want to eat breakfast without you gettin' your paws in it first."

"Who's in it for what?" Soda looked up from his plate with a curious look on his face and a mouthful of pancakes as Two-Bit dodged Darry's spatula. I got up and went to the refrigerator to see if there were any Pepsis left. "What happened?"

"It's Dallas, the good for nothin' hood," Two-Bit explained, grinning from ear to ear. "He's gone and pissed Tim off again and Shepard's callin' him out. They're gonna have a fight later this afternoon."

I looked up to see him leaning against the counter with a smirk on his face. Dally's always getting into fights with Tim Shepard or his buddies, so this wasn't anything new. "What'd he do?"

"Who knows? Prolly slashed Tim's tires again or made a move on his girl. I'm headin' down to Buck's so I can get some bets down. You guys wanna come?" He nodded at me. "Hey, Johnny, toss me a Pepsi, will ya?"

"Dally'll mop the floor with Shepard if they use blades," Soda shook his head and I fished out another Pepsi from the fridge. "Tim knows it, too. They're just doin' a skin fight, right?"

"Duh." Two-Bit popped the Pepsi open and chucked the top into the trash can. "Tim wouldn't fight fair if they were goin' blades. Hell, neither of 'em'd fight fair."

Pony padded into the kitchen as Two-Bit snuck more batter when Darry wasn't looking. "What the hell're you guys talkin' so loud for? You'll wake the dead with your big mouths." He reached over and took a swig of my Pepsi. His reddish brown hair was sticking up in all directions and there were dark circles under his eyes.

"Sheesh, Pony, we _must've_ woken the dead 'cause you look ten feet under." Two-Bit raised an eyebrow at him. "What're you so tired for?"

Ponyboy shrugged. "Couldn't sleep."

"I gotta split, Steve'n'me are workin' the early shift." Soda got up from the table and ruffled Pony's hair as he made for the front door. "Lemme know how it turns out with Dally, Two-Bit."

"Sure thing." Matthews took Soda's seat at the table as Darry set down another plate of pancakes.

"You got homework, kid?" he asked Ponyboy as Two-Bit dug in. Pony shrugged as he carried a handful of eggs towards the stove.

"S'only math. Nothin' too hard."

"Yeah, well, don't expect to go anywhere 'till it's done. Your scores in math haven't been their best lately." Darry ignored the look he got in return. Ponyboy doesn't realize it all the time, but he's lucky Darry nags him so much. I wish my folks were the kind of people who'd bother me for good grades and help me with my homework like Darry does for Pony. At least Darry cares.

"Well, Superman? You wanna come watch Tim get the shit kicked out've 'im?" Two-Bit was smothering his pancake in syrup with his fingers. "I say he's got a chance of one in a million to win."

Darry rolled his eyes. "Don't you have anything better to do, Matthews?"

"Nope. And on a Sunday, neither do you."

I got up and headed outside for a smoke. If I don't have a weed in the morning I get kinda edgy for the rest of the day and it's a real bear to be around me. I smoke a heck of a lot more than anyone else I know, but that don't bother me much. I figure I might as well forget about quitting because I need a weed like my old man needs booze. Kind of a like-father-like-son deal.

I leaned against the side of the house, lighting my cigarette and tossing the empty pack into the bushes. It was cold in the shade so I headed down to the curb at the end of the driveway and started out along the sidewalk. I do that a lot, just walk down the sidewalk with no where to go in mind. It ain't so bad; it gives me time to think by myself and a reason to get out of the house. I must've been pretty deep into my thoughts because it took me a second till I realized a car was coming up fast from behind me. Fast moving cars are never a good thing when you're by yourself, even in broad daylight. Blood started pounding in my ears and I turned just in time to see Dallas drive up in red car and stop on the curb right next to me. He had the top down and was grinning like a lunatic.

"Hey kid." His arm was draped across the headrest of his passenger seat. "Where ya goin' in such a hurry?" He was wearing his usual leather jacket, torn up jeans and rodeo boots, his eyes hidden behind a pair of sunglasses. The top of the car was down and he looked like he was havin' the time of his life.

I let out a deep breath and tried to stop my legs from shaking when I saw it was only him. Well, you can't really put 'only' in front of him, 'cause Dally's a lot more than most people bargain for. If I was a girl I'd probably be scared of him. "I thought you were a Soc or somethin'," I mumbled, ashamed of how worked up I could get from just the sound of a car approaching. Dally frowned and turned down the radio he had blasting some loud guitar riff.

"My bad," he said, taking off the sunglasses and swearing under his breath. "Christ, I'm sorry, kid, I forgot."

"Aren't you supposed to be at Buck's fighting it out with Tim Shepard?" I shoved my hands into my pockets and cocked my head at him, trying to make it look like I wasn't such a coward. After all, I had my switchblade in the back pocket of my jeans just in case. I carry it with me wherever I go 'cause you can never be too careful. Somethin' about bein' able to feel it against the back of my leg makes me feel a little better when I go places, and especially when I go alone. Y'know, like I'm not so defenseless.

"Didn't feel like it," he explained, shrugging as he took a swig of the beer in his hand. "Figured I'd let him off easy this time. You gettin' in or what?"

I hopped the car door into the seat next to him. He tossed the beer can onto the street and floored it, blowing past the stop sign at the corner. "What'd you do to him, anyway?" I asked, grabbing the handle so I wouldn't fall out when he took a sharp turn.

Dally's eyes flicked up the rear view mirror. He grinned. "Isn't it kinda obvious this car ain't mine?"

"Glory, Dally, you stole his car?" The thought to get out before anyone saw me crossed my mind. I didn't need this kind of trouble. Stealing someone's car can get you thrown in the slammer for a couple nights, and if I ever landed in jail for any reason, my old man'd never let me hear the end of it.

"Cool your jets, kid, I'll return it in good time. Free gas is somethin' you don't come by everyday."

Ain't it easy to tell why I'm so jealous of him? Dally can hot wire someone's car and it's no sweat, and I can't even walk down the sidewalk without losing my nerve. I dunno why he lets me hang around him. Besides, I thought somethin' was fishy about Dally owning a car like that. No matter how many rodeos Buck can set up for him, he'd never have the patience to save up for such a nice car. Hell, Tim'd probably hot wired it in the first place. A guy like Tim wouldn't save up, either.

Dally yawned lazily as we stopped at a red light. It was gettin' nice out and I was glad Tim owned a car that could have it's top off. He might be a jerk, but he's got good taste in cars. Steve probably would've given anything to fiddle around under that hood. I propped my feet up on the dashboard as a group of Soc girls passed by goin' down the sidewalk, gossiping away like girls always do. Dally leaned back and whistled after them, shouting out all sorts of dirty stuff that could've made even his girl Sylvia blush. I recognized a few of them but couldn't think of their names. Maybe if I went to school more often I'd be able to. A couple of them shook their heads like they couldn't believe how rude Dal was bein' but they all kept right on walking. That's how they deal with us, they just act like we don't exist most of the time. Guys like Dally who try to look up their skirts or grab their hair when they walk past don't make us look any better, but it don't matter in the long run, I guess. We're still greasers and they're still Socs.

"Where were you goin', anyway?" he asked as the light turned green and he floored it again 'till we sped past the girls, leaving them in our dust.

I shrugged and held my arm off the side of the door to feel the wind pass through my fingers. Dally and me don't spend a lot time without the rest of the gang around and it was kinda weird, just him and me. I glanced at my reflection in the side mirror and noticed the black eye my old man'd given me a week before hadn't really gone away yet, or maybe it just looked that way 'cause I hadn't been sleeping too well lately. "Home, I s'pose."

Dally laughed and I could hear a bitterness in his voice. "Knowin' you, home's the last place you were headed." Probably the only person who hates my old man more than me is Dally, even though he's never actually met my dad. He doesn't say anything most of the time, but every so often I catch him looking at a new bruise or watchin' me wince when Two-Bit elbows me in the ribs 'cause he forgot I was hurting there. "Listen, I'm headed to the rodeo so you might as well come along."

"You riding today?" I remembered something Darry'd told Pony about not hanging around the rodeo, but we'd never really had any reason to go that far out of town in the first place. I'd never seen Dally ride before but I knew he did it a lot.

"Wouldn't waste my time goin' out there if I wasn't."

"What time you riding?"

"Three." He dug into the glove department and pulled out a pack of smokes, offered me one. "But I gotta warm up first so I figured I'd get out there early."

"Yeah, sure." The car's clock said it was noon.

"You eaten yet?" Dally lit one of the cigarettes too, tucking the pack into his back pocket. "I'm starved outta my mind." We were seeing less houses as we headed out of town and further into the country. The car turned onto a dirt road and started kicking up dust.

"Don't have any money." I was flat broke but there probably wasn't any place to stop and get food this far from the city.

He grinned. "We will after three, kid. 'Sides, I got it good with the guy who runs the place. He'll take care of us."


	5. Chapter 5

Dally pulled up behind the stables just as a group of three or four guys about our age walked out. They were horsing around, shoving each other and I saw one of them notice us just as Dal flicked his cigarette butt into the weeds. 

"Well look who it is!" He came running over and almost jumped on the hood trying to get at Dally, looking like he'd won the lottery he was so excited. "Back for another go, Winston, or just burnin' gas draggin' your sorry ass out here?"

"Jake? What the fuck're you doing here?" Dally jeered, throwing open the car door and jumped out to meet him. "Shit, I thought you were doin' time!"

"I was," the other guy punched Dally's shoulder and dodged when Dally tried to hit him back. "Got out early for 'good behavior.'" Jake was slim with long legs and he hunched his shoulders when he leaned against the car. He had dark brown hair with streaks of bleach in it that made his eyes look lighter. Dally looked pretty happy to see him, and by then the guys Jake'd been walking with had come over, too. They looked just as surprised to see him as Jake was. "Never thought I'd see your miserable hide around here anytime soon. You ridin' or just comin' for kicks?"

Right away it was easy to tell they were a lot like Tim Shepard. While a guy like Two-Bit likes to mouth off to the cops and drink 'till he can't see straight, he's no big deal when you put him next to someone like Tim. Those kinds of guys are real hoods who carry heaters and jump people just for the fun of it. Dally's a lot like Tim, and it was obvious these guys were right up that alley. In fact, probably the only difference between them and Shepard was the fact they rode horses for a living while Tim'd never even seen one before.

"Ain't that Shepard's car?" one of the guys guessed. So they knew who Tim was after all, which wasn't a surprise.

Dally laughed and patted the hood. "Sure is. Ol' Timmy let me borrow 'er for awhile." He put on his sun glasses again and hooked a thumb through his belt loop, smiling dangerously. Dal always managed to look tough, even next to a group of guys covered from head to toe in dust and bruises from riding bareback all day. He's just got an air about him that makes people nervous, or at least aware of him. It don't take long to figure out he can back up what he says real easily.

"Yeah? Ask him if he'll let me do the same sometime. My car's in the shop for a fuckin' millenia."

"Who's the kid?" I glanced over to see Jake watching me with his hands in his pockets. I hadn't noticed him doin' it till then, he'd been quieter than the others. Dally looked over at me like he'd forgotten I was even there, but then grinned and waved me over, so I hopped out of the car and went to stand by him. Like usual I was a lot smaller than the rest of them and a whole lot less intimidating. I'm only a year younger than Dally but I barely come up to his shoulders and it don't look like I'm any thicker around than one of his legs alone.

Dal put an elbow on my shoulder and messed up my hair. I dunno why everybody gets a kick outta doin' it, but no one can keep their hands offa my hair. "S'my buddy Johnny. Any'a you hoods give him trouble, you answer to me. Got it?"

They laughed, but I saw a few of them look me up and down like they were sizing me up. I hoped they weren't; if any of them wanted to get at me when Dally wasn't lookin' I couldn't do much to stop them, even with my switchblade. Just 'cause they were friends of Dal's didn't mean they were friends of mine.

Dal spat on the ground and shoved Jake to get his attention again. "Hey, how 'bout somethin' to eat? I'm fuckin' starving."

"You're the only guy I know thick-headed enough to ride on a full stomach, Winston. But yeah, I'll hook you up." Jake turned and headed towards the bar near the stables. The others followed behind him, offering to buy Dal and me a beer and lettin' him in on who else was riding later on.

Everyone in the bar knew who Dal was, and he was real well liked, too. When the doors swung open and he walked in, a bunch of people standing around the jute box looked up and called his name to get his attention. The bar was dark and full of smoke, kinda like Buck Merril's place but a lot smaller. It was hard to hear and there were people everywhere, yelling above the music to make themselves heard. Someone in the mess of people shoved a beer into my hands and gave me a rough pat on the back that almost made me fall flat on my face. Before I knew what was going on Dally had left me behind and was sitting in the middle of a group of people, his arm around a girl I didn't know while he fed the crowd some story about how he'd whipped a group of six or seven Socs who'd tried to jump him a few weeks ago. I'd heard the story a bunch of times, and the number of Socs he'd fought of got bigger each time he told it. I guess it didn't matter that I wasn't buyin' it 'cause the crowd sure was.

I found an empty stool at the bar and took it. I'm not too keen on booze, mostly 'cause I'm no good at holding my liquor, but it was too hot in the room to ignore the beer in my hand, so I took a swig and gagged it down. I don't get why people like the stuff so much, it's real bitter and makes me choke.

"You okay? Take another drink, kid, you're turnin' purple." Jake was laughing at me from behind the bar while he cleaned a dirty glass with an even dirtier rag. He was supposed to be the bar tender but he couldn't have been that much older than Dally. No wonder Darry didn't want us messing around the place. "Never had a drink before or somethin'? You're actin' like a first time smoker with all that coughing."

I felt my face go red and stared at the floor, trying to stop coughing. "How old're you? Fourteen? Fifteen?" He was trying to be nice by giving me someone to talk to, but the last thing I needed was to feel like I didn't belong any more than I already did. I know I don't look my age, but no one else thinks I know 'cause they're always tellin' me like it's some big inside joke I've been left out of. Well, Steve and Soda don't look their ages neither but no one goes around askin' them any questions. I saw Dally and the guys we'd met outside get up to play a round of pool but none of them looked over to see where I was. Jake didn't seem to notice, or else he didn't care 'cause he kept washing glasses.

"I'm sixteen," I mumbled, turning back around and downing the rest of the drink. Just to show him I meant business, I pushed the empty glass towards him. He raised an eyebrow at me but shrugged, filling it again and passing it back.

"You gonna try your hand at riding?" The way he asked the question made it obvious he didn't think I had a chance on a horse. I didn't blame him; an angry horse'd probably break my back in record time.

"I came to watch Dally." I wished Pony were around. I would've settled for Two-Bit, even. Anyone familiar would've been nice.

"Yeah? Ever seen him ride before?" I shook my head again. There are a lot of things I should've seen by now, like one of Pony's track meets or Dally's rodeos, but for some reason I just haven't. "You're in for a treat then, kid." Jake grinned. "Dally's the best around."


	6. Chapter 6

The bar was starting to empty out when Jake looked up at the clock hanging on the wall behind him. "Hey--I gotta go get the horses ready. You comin', or are you gonna sit there hopin' Dally'll come back?" 

At first I didn't think he was talking to me, but when I noticed him waiting for an answer, I caught on. "Oh... sure."

Jake shook his head and tossed the dirty rag he'd been cleaning with onto the counter. "Too many people taggin' along after that guy, expectin' him to be someone he ain't..."

It was weird to hear someone talking about Dally that way. Usually the kind of things you hear about him come from the people who hate him for one reason or another. It ain't like he don't deserve the reputation he's got, but it gets tiresome hearing nothin' but shit about him.

"I ain't a tag-a-long." I glared down at my empty glass of beer. "I wouldn'ta come if I didn't want to."

He laughed, shrugging and heading for the back door. "Whatever you say, kid... but I'd be lying if I told you I'd never heard that one before."

* * *

I followed Jake out to the stables. I've never seen so many horses jammed into one place like that. He went from stall to stall, running his hands over their necks and backs, checking for somethin' I wouldn't know about. It was obvious that Jake cared about the horses, the way he talked to them like a kindergarten teacher would to a toddler, the way he was gentle with them like he was afraid they'd break in half if he was too rough. He was even patient with the ornery ones that tried to bite him each time he got close.

"This sonnova bitch is the one who's gonna give Dal a run for his money." He laughed playfully, stumblin' back when the huge horse stomped it hooves at the sound of the stall door swinging open. Its black body shined in the sunlight, its muscles showing under all that black, kinda like Darry's muscles when he wears those black shirts he saves just for rumbles. It was lookin' at us like it knew something we didn't, its dark eyes goin' back and forth from me to Jake. I jammed my hands into my pockets, moving back a little more.

"What's his name?"

"Don't have one. None of 'em do." Jake shrugged, stepping into the stall and kicking at the hay scattered on the stone floor. "Just got 'im last week, though. He was supposed to be a birthday present for some rich broad from her old man, but he threw 'er off the first time she saddled up, so they sold 'im to me for just near an arm'n'a leg." The horse shook its head and snorted, stepping away from Jake when he tried to touch its neck. It almost looked like it was narrowing its eyes at us. I was real glad I wasn't gonna be the one riding it. Keeping out of reach of its snapping teeth, I cupped my lighter to light a smoke.

"What are you, mental? Put that thing out, kid, before you light the whole barn on fire." Jake reached over and snatched the weed right from my lips, tossing it onto the cement floor and grinding it out with the heel of his thick shoes. "Jesus..."

"Sorry, wasn't thinkin'..." Good thing I wasn't talkin' to Darry. He's got scoldin' down to a science.

Jake sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, digging around in a closet by the shelf of riding saddles. "Nasty habit for a kid like you, being sixteen'n all. If you're gonna do it again, make sure you're not hangin' around a building full of straw, yeah?"

I was more bothered by the wasted cigarette than the lecture I was gettin'. He pulled out a brush and hopped the black horse's stall door. Its ears flicked back and forth, but it didn't make any more sudden movements.

Jake explained about how his dad'd taken off while his mom was sick in the hospital, where she'd died a few months earlier. I leaned against an empty stall door, watching him brush Dally's horse and listening to him talk about how he'd used whatever money he and his mom'd had left over to run rodeos every weekend to pay the bills. He sure liked to talk, too, a lot; but I didn't mind. I like listening. He stood out, but not in and obvious way like James Dean or Elvis, more like the kind of good looking that takes some time to notice. It was hard to believe he'd done time in jail, but he told me why he'd been. "Just decided to take bets on some of the riders. Y'know, make it a little more interesting for everybody. And hell, I'm wasn't in any kind of shape to turn down extra cash. Still ain't, but they threatened to close me down if they got any more trouble from my end." I wondered why Dally'd never bothered to bring Jake along for a rumble. He looked like he could've held his own against a Soc or two.

"Hey, mind if I ask you somethin'?" Jake glanced over at me between brush strokes. The more he brushed, the blacker that horse got. It kept its eyes trained on me the whole time, watching me pick at a rip in my jeans.

He kinda caught me off guard, asking out of the blue like that. "Yeah?"

"How'd you meet Dallas?" He tossed the brush back where he'd found it, closing the stall door behind him. The horse grunted and stamped its hooves again.

I shrugged, pulling the collar of my jacket up around my ears. It was getting kinda chilly. "The drive-in near my house."

I was twelve or thirteen when I met Dally, which made him about Pony's age now, fourteen. Even when Dally was younger he was still intimidating like he is now. Then again, anyone bigger than you can be intimidating when you're as small as I am. Two-Bit and Steve like to joke that I barely weigh a hundred pounds soaking wet, holding a brick.

Pony and me went to more movies then than we do now, so the theater was my other home-away-from-home for a while. We'd walk there, and if we didn't have enough money for tickets we'd sneak in the back door. It wasn't the best way to see movies; sneaking in always meant missing the beginning of the flick, so we'd spend a lot of the movie trying to figure out what the heck was going on. When we did get caught we'd have to duck down and run through the rows of dark seats to the exit so they wouldn't get ahold of us. It was funny; the guy who ran the place knew we snuck in all the time but he wouldn't say a darn thing if we had the money for tickets. I guess that's how the world works, though.

We started going to the drive-in theater instead when Soda got his license. He'd take any excuse to drive around town. Before he started dating Sandy like he is now, he'd take me'n Pony anywhere we wanted to go when Steve couldn't hang out. Gettin' a ride beat out walking, that's for sure. I liked laying on the hood of the Curtis' car, stretched out with my feet almost hanging off the front and my hands behind my head, instead of sitting in the cramped and stuffy theater. Sneaking into the drive-in was a whole lot easier, too. You just had to jump the fence and pretend like you were with a group of people already there, and if you did it late at night, no one was the wiser. Soda'd get a free Coke or popcorn outta the girls running the concession stands just by walkin' over and putting on that sorta charm he's full of, and he'd share it with us if he remembered to come back before the movie was over. He never could sit through a whole film, he got bored too easy.

Sometime during that summer there was a movie comin' out that Ponyboy couldn't stop talking about. I swear, he must have raved about it for weeks on end before the drive-in finally started showing it. Some Paul Newman film he was dyin' to see. I'm more of a John Wayne fan than anything else, but Paul Newman's all right, too. Soda was working late the night it was supposed to come out, so we walked over to the drive-in ourselves and hopped the fence. A few guys Pony knew from school were hanging out near the benches, so we sat with them. I didn't know most of them, but that's probably because they were two years younger than me which meant we didn't see much of each other during school, even when I bothered to go. A lot of them were somewhere between greaser and Soc, that middle class grey area no one ever talks about 'cause they don't make the papers too often. They're Tulsa's space-fillers.

The place is always crowded, though. Everyone who's got nothing better to do usually winds up in one of two places in Tulsa: the Dingo or the drive-in theater, and Pony and me aren't the only ones who sneak in regularly. Rowdy guys looking for a row find their way over the fence and go around knocking on car windows and jeering at girls. It isn't always the same group of guys, either, so it's hard to tell who's turn it is to ruin the movie and when they'll get around to doing it. That night there were a couple'a guys running around who thought it'd be a riot to pop open the hoods of every car they came across in the drive-in lot.

Turned out none of Pony's sorta-friends smoked, so I got up and wandered down near the other end of the lot to have a quick cigarette without getting any looks. It's too bad a greaser can't even go twenty feet away from his friends without finding trouble, 'cause I'd just pulled my lighter out when one of the hood-popping Socs decided to pop hoods down at my end of the fence. He caught sight of me before I had a chance to put out my light. He had the hood of a nearby car freshly opened.

"What're you lookin' at, grease?" he snapped. He was twice my size, with a high school letter jacket and I could tell he was itching for something more interesting to do. "This your car?"

"No." I shoved the lighter back into my pocket and tried not to look him in the eye. It woulda been different had Soda driven us.

"That's right, it ain't." He took a step towards me. "You alone, greaser?" I backed up another step, but he was too fast; he had his fists in my shirt before I could turn and run. "Goin' somewhere?"

Just beyond the fence, someone shouted. "Hey, shut the fuck up! Some've us're tryin' to watch the movie!" The Soc turned his head to see who'd pulled the stunt.

"You wanna come over here and say that, shit head?"

Anyone who gets arrested at the age of ten doesn't put up with a lot. The Soc must've been at least two years older than Dal, but that wasn't stopping anyone. He didn't have a hold of me for long, that's for sure. The chain-link fence rattled in the dark; someone'd climbed it in a hurry. I saw a flash of blonde and before I knew it, I was picking myself up off the ground. There was a thud of muscle on metal, and I looked up to see Dallas pinning the Soc against the engine of the car with one hand, the other hand grabbing the rim of the open hood, holding it up like he was aiming to shut it on the guy's head.

"Shit--!" The Soc panicked and tried to kick free, but Dally held him down fast. "What the hell's your problem!"

"You pop one more hood and I'll pop _your_ hood, fucker. Got it?" The light from the movie screen cast eerie shadows across Dally's face, and for a minute I got the impression he was crazy. "Get outta here!" The Soc lit out in the opposite direction of the concession stand when Dally let him up, and he tripped over himself to get away until he'd disappeared into the crowd. His buddies must've lost interest in hoods and slipped out under the fence because neither me or Dally saw them again for the rest of the movie.

I pulled my jacket back onto my shoulders. Dally turned his head and spat, slammed the hood shut and wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve. "You all right?"

I nodded, could't stop staring at him.

"Johnny?" Pony wandered over, looking over his shoulder in the direction the Soc'd taken off in. Back at the benches, his grey-area friends were laughing, someone'd said something funny. Ponyboy glanced at Dally, then back at me. He seemed confused. "What happened?" Dally smirked, then shouldered me out of the way to pass between us.

"See ya 'round, kid."

We both turned to watch Dally's back get smaller, darker. After a few seconds of silence, Pony spoke up. "I think I know who that guy is... His name's Dallas Winston. Two-Bit's seen him around before, says he's from New York."

I'd believe it.

* * *

"The drive-in?" Jake laughed, bringing me from the movie and back to the stables.

"Yeah. How'd you meet him?"

Jake smiled sadly. "We're old riding buddies. Met here."

"He doesn't talk about you much." I hadn't thought that one through before saying it. I hoped he wouldn't take it the wrong way.

Jake didn't miss a beat, he just shrugged his shoulders. "Doesn't surprise me. What _does_ surprise me is how he started comin' around here again so soon..."

I blinked. That didn't make much sense to me. Dally'd always ridden horses, even before I'd met him. Far as I knew, that hadn't changed recently. Besides, the two of them'd been real buzzed to see each other earlier.

"Looks like a storm's comin'." Jake stepped past me and outside the stable, looking up at the sky. The wind was picking up again, and the sun had disappeared behind the clouds. "Makes for shitty riding."

I hadn't seen Dallas since he'd taken off from the bar, but I knew he was around; Tim's car was still parked outside the stable.

"You might wanna get going, kid, it's almost three. I gotta finish up here, but I'll see you later. Riding area's just past the bar, in case you missed it comin' in."

* * *

I recognized a lot of the people in the stands as people from the bar. The girl Dal'd been hitting on was sitting with a group of her almost-Soc friends, and a few of the guys who'd been playing pool earlier were hanging around down near the entry gates. For a small ranch, there sure were a lot of people around. I checked my watch again. Quarter to.

"Johnny! Where ya been?" It was Dally; he'd climbed up on the metal fence surrounding the riding area, his arms wrapped around the top rail. "I thought maybe Superman'd come around and dragged you back home. Thought maybe I should skip town and lay low for a couple weeks."

It was the first time I'd seen him since we'd gotten there. "Nah, he ain't here. I was with Jake." I took two steps at a time down the bleachers till I was standin' on the other side of the fence from him.

Dally hesitated. "Oh yeah? What'd Mr. Jailbird have to say?"

"Nothin'." He was eyein' me, tongue in cheek, so I changed the subject. "I saw the horse you're supposed to ride. Man, Dal, it looks like a bear, it's so big--"

He laughed, thankfully. "Whatever McPherson's cooked up, I'll show him. Just you wait, Johnnycake."


	7. Chapter 7

I shuddered as another clap of thunder made the bleachers shake. I hate thunder storms. When I was real little I used to go over to the Curtis' and wait out the storm with Ponyboy. During a storm a few years ago, Dally dragged me outside and wouldn't let me go back in until I was soaked to the bone. He said I'd never get over it if I didn't suck it up and face it. I remember getting drenched, my denim jacket laying heavy against my arms, hair plastered to my face. I woke up with a fever the next day, too. Soda got real pissed at Dally for it, but he didn't seem to care much. He'd shrugged Soda off, telling him, "I never heard of a greaser afraid of the rain."

Now Dally was looking over his shoulder towards the entry gates. "I gotta get goin' before they call the whole deal off." I lit another cigarette, hoping to make up for the one Jake'd put out, but Dally snatched it and put it to his lips. "What're you doin' up in the nosebleeds, anyhow? This's where the nobodies sit. Well, them'n the Socs who think they can ride. C'mon." He jumped down off the fence and waved for me to follow.

"You sure I'm allowed?" I called after him, swinging under the bars and into the ring. "I'm not gonna get in the way?"

"Nah." Dallas took a drag off the weed and slung an arm around my shoulder. "Ain't worth it to sit up there, anyway, you'll miss the whole thrill of it."

His arm around my shoulders felt good. "Hey Dal, about the horse you're gonna ride... You sure you're gonna be okay? It was twice the size of Soda's old horse."

He tilted his head back and blew smoke, laughing. "That dead beat Disney character was a sad excuse for a horse compared to anything you'll see 'round here. Curtis wouldn't last a minute in that ring."

We reached the stables where the ranch hands were runnin' around, saddling horses up and, in a far off corner, taking last minute bets. From out of nowhere, Jake nabbed Dally's cigarette like he'd done mine and shot a glare in my direction before grinding it into the dirt. "What _are_ you guys, chimneys? Just soak the place in gasoline and get it over with already!"

Dally ignored him and rubbed his hands together. "So, when'm I up?"

Jake made sure the weed was out before answering. "You're goin' last, remember?"

"What? No, fuck that! You told me 3 o'clock!"

"Hey, you sign up last, you ride last. That's how it works'n you know it, Winston."

A pretty girl wearing a light blue skirt made her way through the crowd, leaning close and kissing each guy she came across on the cheek. I didn't even see her till she was right behind me, hands on my shoulders and lips against my face. "Good luck, little guy!" she cooed, squeezing my arms. My face went hot and Dally started laughing again, and when she went to kiss his cheek, he moved his head and kissed her on the mouth.

When she tried to plant one on Jake, he shrugged her off, annoyed. "Kate, d'you mind? I'm kinda busy here."

"Aw, 'cmon, it's tradition!" She made a face and tried again, standing on her toes to reach his cheek.

He gave up and let her, but the look on his face made it seem like she was biting him. "Yeah, tradition..." He nodded at another hand and finally, the first rider climbed onto a waiting horse perched at the edge of the fence. The "nobodies" cheered their approval, and two ranch hands grabbed the gate handles, ready to pull them open at the signal.

Dally elbowed me, pointing to the rider. "Newest guy here on a horse that hates the extra weight of a rider. Makes for a great combo, don't it? McPherson does it on purpose, to break in the newbies."

He was right; the ride didn't last very long. The only things I could hear over the crowd were the start and finish bells. The horse didn't waste any time in knocking the kid off; it acted like he was dead weight. He might've had more of a chance if rain hadn't started pouring down in the middle of the ordeal; the thunder probably made the horse that much more skittish. I stood under the over hang with Dally and some of the guys who'd been collecting bets, trying to keep dry.

"Ha_ha_! Did you see that? Did you see that! That's 20 bucks! Pay the fuck up, Johnson!"

"Yeah right! You bet on 30 seconds! That was no more than 24, at best; he hit the ground at 22!"

Before long it was on to the next rider, and then the next, and the next. It went on like that till 5, till the ring was almost completely mud. Horses and riders alike were slipping in the mess, but that just brought on more bets and even more cheering from the crowds, so it wasn't a surprise that no one saw any reason to head in. Rain didn't stop these guys, lightening just made them ride harder. I felt real uneasy; none of the horses we'd seen so far were anything compared to what Dally had waiting for him. He didn't look worried--he was too busy winning bets and making out with Kate whenever she passed by--but that didn't help settle my mind. I hadn't seen any of the hands bring the horse out yet, and the later it got the darker it got, and the darker it got the harder it rained.

Jake came to stand next to me, carrying a Coke and a hot dog. "Hungry, kid?" Food was the last thing I'd been thinking about, but when I saw the hot dog it dawned on me that I'd never had any of Darry's pancakes that morning. I'd have to wait till next Sunday's batch to get one. I took the food and he leaned against the wall next to me to brush the rain off his jacket. When I reached up to shake the droplets from my hair, I felt Jake's shoulder against mine.

"You ready?" He crossed his arms, shivering a little.

"For what?"

He nodded towards the stables, and I followed his glance. I hadn't noticed Dally leave the over hang, but there he was, helping the other guys bring his horse down to the ring. It didn't look any calmer than it had the last time I'd seen it; in fact, it looked downright pissed off to be wearing a saddle. More thunder and lightening welcomed them to the entry gates.

Instead of his usual restlessness like before a rumble, Dally climbed into the saddle looking cool-headed. He rolled his shoulders, leaned forward and muttered something to the angry horse. It tried to bite his fingers when he ran a hand down its nose, made noises of protest when the two guys positioned themselves to open the doors. I glanced at Jake, but he was staring straight ahead, waiting. The corner of his mouth was turned up. They'd been riding buddies...

More thunder rolled through.

"This oughta be good," I heard someone say, down near the betting corner.

Dallas grinned just as the starting bell rang out.

The horse panicked when the gates were flung open, and it's huge hooves made the mud splash up around it so that it looked like someone'd thrown fire crackers into the arena. It bucked and reared, slammin' into the fence and spinning around in circles. Dally had a good hold on it for the first half a minute, but the crazed thing was carryin' on like it didn't even realize someone was holdin' on for dear life, hands frantically grabbing at it's mane and neck. I couldn't make out the look on his face, but I bet everyone around me was wearing the same one. The horse tried knocking against the fence again, and Dally had to kick against the railing to try and push away so he wouldn't get crushed.

"This is no good..." Jake breathed, watching the horse careen around in another circle. "Anyone else'd be on the ground with a busted neck by now." In the stands, the crowd was cheering, most of them on their feet. It was the most noise they'd made all afternoon. Jake ran out into the rain and climbed up onto the first rung of the fence, cupping his hands around his mouth. "Dallas! Dallas, for Christ's sake, _let go!_"

The horse circled back around and tried bucking its rider off one last time before I took the fence in one jump and hit the ground running.

Dally let go just as I splashed down in the mud.

"_Dallas!_"

Shit, shit, _shit_...!

I could hear Jake climb the fence behind me. "Hey! What do you think you're doing, kid?"

Some of the other guys from the bar were down in the mud, trying to round up the spaced out horse that somehow hadn't run out of energy yet. Their shouts didn't seem like real sentences, just jumbled noises that buzzed in and out of earshot. I stumbled and fell, landed on my knees next to Dally. To tell the truth, I didn't know what to do. My hands were shaking and he wasn't opening his eyes. He was lyin' face down, covered in mud from head to toe. Something about the way his arms were laying made me feel like I was gonna be sick.

When Jake reached us he looked like he didn't know what to do, either. On top of that, he seemed as panicked as the horse. He grabbed Dally by his jacket and rolled him over. He was limp, like a doll. The corners of my eyes stung. "Dallas!"

Before either of us knew it'd happened, Dally reached up, grabbed Jake by the collar of his mud-stained shirt, and yanked. Jake fell headfirst into the mud next to him, sputtering out a string of curses before he hit the ground, and I fell back on my ass, completely taken off guard.

Dally was crowing with laughter as he propped himself up on his hands to watch Jake's reaction. "How's that for a show, McPherson?" He was fine, perfectly fine.

"You sonnova bitch!" Jake scrambled to his feet in what I bet was record time. He stared down at Dally, who was sportin' so much dirt on his face he looked like he was wearin' a mask. Anyone meeting him for the first time wouldn't've known he was blond, that's how drenched he was. "What the hell kinda stunt're you tryin' to pull?"

"What, no good?" All Jake's swearin' was making Dally grin wider. He was about as sorry as Jake was amused.

"'No good?' I thought you'd bashed your thick head in! D'you know how fast they'd shut me down if some jackass like you just happened to kick off anywhere _near _the bar?" More laughing from the mud was all he got in return. Dally clutched at his sides while his friend stood above him and fumed.

"C'mon Johnny, tell me at least you got a laugh out've it!" I stared at him, just as surprised as Jake. I was still shaking, and wiped at my eyes with the back of my sleeve, hoping they'd think I was getting the mud off. When he saw I had nothing to say, Dal snorted. "Aw, the hell with both've you." He shook his hair out, like a dog, splattering me across the face again. "Got a towel?" He grinned up at Jake.

"Fuck you!" Jake was madder than all hell, and probably a good deal embarrassed, too. "Fuck you, fuck you, _fuck you_...!" And with that he stormed off, kicking up almost as much mud as the runaway horse had. The overhead lights flicked on one by one, lighting up the ring. The crowd was alive again, we could hear cheering coming from the stands.

"What a pussy." Dallas spat mud; his mouth was full of it. Then he looked back over at me, smirking through the downpour. "Hey, kid, quit your crying already, I'm fine."

"I ain't crying." I protested, glaring at him. Jesus Christ, Dally... "You had that planned all along or what?"

He looked real pleased with himself as he watched his other buddies get the horse back under control, and he winked. "Told you I'd show him who's boss."

Dally stood up. "Hey, were you watching the clock?" I stared at him from the mud. "I think I got the best time...and you know what that means! _...Drinks all around!_"

* * *

As a friendly reminder, reviews encourage faster updates! ;) I also wouldn't advise missing the next chapter... And one more thing: I edited the previous chapters. Nothing big, just fixed some typos and reworded some sentences. Have fun with it! 


	8. Chapter 8

Jake wasn't around when Dally and I got back to the bar. Everyone standing around inside started clapping when we walked in; more for Dally than anyone else, but Kate smiled at me when she passed by on her way to the jute box. The group of guys who'd been chasing after the horse crowded around him and shoved me aside to get to him. If anything, they were more fucked up than he was, their clothes soaked. I would've been more pissed at being tossed aside, but I was kind of spaced out, caught up in thinking about how cold I was. Even though it was too small for anyone to have any personal space in there, it was still freezing. 

"Way to go, Winston! Best time of the night!"

"Fuckin' awesome ride, man! You had me fooled."

"Shit, he had us all fooled!"

Dally basked in the praise. A huge grin stretched bigger and bigger across his face with each pat on the back or high five. He seemed about ready to start in on the story, but then he noticed me shivering out of the corner of his eye. "Geez, Johnny, you look like hell. How'd you get dirtier than me?" The crowd around him turned to look at me. It was true, I was a walking mud pie.

I squished my toes inside my soggy shoes. It still hadn't registered that he was all right. I felt stupid for crying, shoulda known he'd do something like pretend to break his neck just to prove a point, and it wasn't helping me feel any better with everyone waiting for me to say something.

Dally rolled his eyes when I didn't answer. "C'mon, greaser. You catch another cold like last time and Mommy Curtis'll blow a gasket." He pushed through the crowd, turning back to shout across the bar. "Somebody get me a drink, I can't remember the last time I couldn't see straight!" The room erupted in more cheers and laughing as Dally lead me through the back door.

We headed up a flight of wooden stairs to a long, carpeted hallway, where the ranch house's spare rooms were. A few people coming and going stopped to punch Dal in the shoulder, making sure he'd be down in the bar later on so they could hear about the ride. I followed him to the door furthest from the stairs, to the only one without a number. The words "boss man" had been carved into it, probably with a dull pocket knife, from the looks of it. "Real classy, huh?" Dally laughed and tried the handle, pushing the door open when he found it unlocked.

He felt around for a light switch while my eyes adjusted to the darkness. When the lights flicked on, I realized we were in someone's bedroom, not just a room for rent. There was a dresser and a bed in the far corner, the covers pulled back like someone'd had a bad dream and kicked them off during the night before. A couple saddles and riding blankets were piled in another corner. I noticed a James Dean poster on the wall, and thought back to the stables from that afternoon. Rebel Without a Cause. I wondered if red would look as good on me.

Dallas crossed the room and tore into the dresser drawers, aimlessly tossing clothes over his shoulder. He seemed to know his way around. Ducking out of the line of fire didn't do any good 'cause I ended up getting hit with a pair of jeans anyway. "Here, kid, put this on." I pulled the jeans off my head just in time for him to fling adark greentshirt in my face.

"Thanks." I tugged my muddy shirt off over my head and pulled the clean one on. It was a little big, but it smelled like detergent, which was better than horse shit. I smoothed it against my chest. The fabric was soft and warm against my cold skin.

"Sure thing." Dally was looking at me, leaning against the dresser. The window blinds cast eerie shadows across his face, and each time the lightening flashed the light caught his eyes and random wisps of his white blond hair. It sure don't take much to make him look fierce. He looked like he wanted to say something else, but didn't know how to start. We stared at each other; his eyes flicked across my face, taking me in. I can't describe it, but when Dally looks at you, it's hard to look away.

"What?" My voice cracked. Squish, squish, squish went my toes.

"Nothin'." There was a streak of mud above one of his eyebrows, and I tried to focus on it to keep myself from staring down at my feet. He'd never looked at me like that. Well, there'd been glances; I'd caught weird looks in his eyes from time to time, but nothin' like how he was lookin' at me then. Neither one of us said anything for awhile and just stood there; him lookin' at me, me lookin' above his eyebrow.

Finally, Dally cleared his throat and spoke up, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "We better get back downstairs, or they'll get a head start on us." He ruffled my hair when he walked past, and didn't wait for me at the door to start back down the stairs. Not wanting to get left behind again, I hurried after him, leaving muddy footprints and someone else's clean clothes behind.

* * *

About halfway through the celebration, Jake cooled down enough to come down and join in. He slipped behind the bar, running a hand along the counter top, and ducked down to check on the supply of booze in the cabinets. I was sitting on the same stool from earlier, Dally's fourth and forgotten half-empty glass of booze in my hands, listening to the music coming from the jute box, or at least what I could hear of it. 

"Hey, kid. Doin' okay?" Jake asked absent mindedly from the floor. I nodded before I realized he couldn't see me.

"I'm all right." I ran a thumb against the luke warm glass. "How 'bout you?"

He shrugged. "You spendin' the night?" Then he paused for a second and lifted his head to give me a weird look. "Is that my shirt?"

"Huh?" Right then I realized whose clothes were all over the floor upstairs and I would've given anything to pull on my jacket, but I'd left that upstairs, too. All of a sudden the room was too small, too crowded for my liking. I wished I was playing pool or getting wasted like everyone else.

He leaned forward over the counter to get a better look. "When did you...?"

"I didn't know it was yours." Why me? But then again, who else's room could that've been?

"Hey, guys, what's goin' on?" Neither of us'd seen him come over, but Dally threw an arm around Jake's shoulder, oblivious to the fact that his friend was about ready to jump the counter and go at me. "Geez, McPherson, Johnny must've said more to you tonight than he's said to me the whole time I've known 'im." His laugh was cut short by a hiccup. "Dunno if that's lucky or just plain suspicious."

Jake wasn't in the mood for any drunken bullshit. "What's he doing with my shirt?"

Dally looked me over before breakin' out in sloppy laughter. "I think he's wearin' it."

There was the scowl from before that I was gettin' so used to. "You think you got the right to give away my clothes just 'cause you know the way to my room?"

"Aw, cool it, will ya? He was freezin', so I hooked 'im up." Dally laughed again, pulling Jake closer. "Didn't think you'd mind."

"Yeah, well," he shrugged Dally's arm off. "I mind." He looked at me. "And anyway, it's getting late. You need a ride home, kid?"

"What's the hurry?" Dally sounded annoyed and took another hit of whatever was in the glass, almost spilling it down his shirt.

"He's got school tomorrow, don't he?" He was waiting for an answer, to see if I could make up a good enough excuse. Dally looked at me out of the corner of his eye, leaving me up to guess at the right answer.

I never was good at lying. "S'no big deal. I won't miss anything." Sure, I couldn't remember the last time I'd been anywhere near my school, but he didn't need to know it.

Jake tried a different approach. "Won't your folks be worried about you?"

Dally snorted. "Oh yeah, worried sick." The last thing either of us wanted to think about were my folks. I flexed my fingers and dug into my pocket for a cigarette.

"If you're gonna smoke, do it outside." If Jake couldn't get rid of me for the rest of the night, he was gonna settle for getting rid of me for the moment. Not wanting to start anything, or make things worse, I slid off the stool and headed for the door. It was hard to find the way; there were so many people running around and the lights were low, but somehow I made it outside to the front porch where it was quieter and lighter, what with the porch lights humming away. The rain'd stopped and the air was cool and fresh. I lit my cigarette and settled on the second step down, looking out across the grass at the dark stables. Every so often a horse snorted, and somewhere far off a dog was barking, but other than that, and apart from the music blaring from inside, everything was still and quiet.

The door opened and the music blasted for a second until it shut again. Dallas was frowning over his shoulder as he flopped down next to me. "Dunno what his deal is tonight."

"It's okay, I don't care. It's his shirt." I wondered if I should go in after Jake, maybe give the shirt back, but somethin' told me that wasn't a very good idea. I flicked the cigarette and watched the ashes settle in the grass.

Dally started laughing again, his voice echoing out into the dark. "You're a good kid. He's actin' like a prick, but you'd still put in a good word for him if anyone asked." He ruffled my hair for the second time that night and draped an arm across my shoulders, the other hand balancing an almost empty drink on his knee. The first thing I noticed was how warm he was. Turns out Dallas Winston has body heat like you wouldn't imagine; the same guy who's so cold to everyone you'd think you'd be able to see his breath in every season, is heated enough to make you drowsy just by leaning against you. Not like I minded, though; it was freezing outside and my jeans were still damp. I smiled at my shoes. We lapsed into comfortable silence, like the ones Pony and me always have, interrupted only by Dally's tipsy laughter. I'm good at comfortable silences, much better than I am at lying.

I'd never had a girlfriend, or a boyfriend, never thought I even _wanted_ a boyfriend. Geez, I didn't even know if I wanted Dally to be my boyfriend. I just wanted, that's all. I wanted everything when it came to Dally: his smell, his eyes, his voice, his jacket, his laugh. I wanted him to forget about Jake and Sylvia and Shepard and anyone else who thought they were good enough to hang around him. I wanted his reputation. I wanted his confidence. I wanted _him_.

And then, I don't know. He must have confused me with the girl he'd been playing around with earlier at the track--what was her name again?--because he leaned close and put his mouth on my neck. I almost swallowed my cigarette when he did it. My whole body went rigid. He laughed, quietly, when he felt me jump and kissed my neck again, his teeth grazed against my skin. I shuddered and tried to keep a clear head but the way his arm was wrapped around me made me more tipsy than any of the booze I'd had that night.

It took every bit of sense I had to push him away. It was just wrong, you know? Wrong to let him do it when he was slammed like that.

"C'mon, Dal, you're drunk." That same weird look from earlier was back in his eyes and he was having trouble sitting up.

"Says who?" More husky laughter. Every inch of his voice was soaked in liquor. His hands were everywhere, my legs, my chest, my back, rubbing in circles, exploring. I bit my lip and squeezed my eyes shut.

"_Dal_."

He ignored me. "Just think about how good it'd feel, Johnnycake..." Warm breath against my neck, cool where his tongue'd been.

I'd never gone red like that from hearing my nickname. No wonder he gets laid as much as he does. Dally pushed against my chest with an open hand, pressing me up against the porch beam. "Don't be scared."

I looked at him then, and wanted to say something--what, I don't remember--but he didn't give me the chance. I didn't think, just closed my eyes when Dally crushed his lips to mine. He tasted like pure alcohol; the vodka stung the back of my throat and I might as well've been bitten by a snake. Pushing away wasn't much of an option; even when he's more liquor than spit, Dally's a heck of a lot stronger than me. He hummed low in his throat, sending shivers down my spine. I'd never been kissed before; not like that, not by anyone. I couldn't have stopped even if I'd wanted to. I grabbed the edges of his jacket and tugged, my fingers digging into the tough leather. Shifting his weight so I was trapped between him and post, Dally ran his tongue against my lower lip, and I might've paid more attention to it if I hadn't noticed his fingers brush against my belt buckle just then.

"A-ahh..." I broke the kiss with a gasp and couldn't help but stare as I fought to catch my breath again. We were only inches apart, Dally's head still turned slightly, ready to start in again. His cheeks were flushed, too, his own breath coming short. "Dal, I--"

The porch door banged open and pretty soon the sound of footsteps echoed in the darkness. Each second we went undiscovered stretched on forever and I could feel Dally's breath against my cheek. He sure didn't seem bothered by the idea of getting caught in the situation we were in; he didn't even look towards the noise. He probably figured whoever it was would keep their mouth shut without so much as a look from those eyes of his.

I jerked away from him just as a giggly, drunken couple stepped into the porch light. Dally was looking at them out of the corner of his eye, pretending to look bored or tired; I couldn't tell which. I was just holding my breath, hoping they were drunk enough to miss us. They stumbled down the steps and made their way towards a group of parked cars, tripping over each other the whole way, trying to keep quiet like they were sneakin' out or somethin'. When he realized they weren't paying any attention to us, Dally started to laugh out loud at the look on my face. I let out a deep breath and felt my hands shaking.

"C'mon." Firm fingers grabbed the collar of my shirt and hauled me to my feet. I almost crashed into him, but he held me steady, still laughing.

We passed through the bar, Dally pullin' me towards the stairs, and I saw Jake look up from behind the counter, in the middle of filling someone's glass. He looked right at me; didn't blink, didn't wave, didn't say a word. He just looked. And when Dallas reached the door, shoved it open, gave Jake's old shirt one more yank, he looked away, and the door swung shut.

* * *

I don't even remember going up the stairs. The hallway was deserted but it wouldn't've made a difference to Dally if everyone in the place'd seen us. Next thing I knew we were slipping from an empty hallway into an equally empty room. 

When he shoved me up against the closed door, hands holding my wrists above my head, I gave up any kind of reasoning. A cool grin spread across his face before he bit his lip and leaned close again. When Dally kissed me the second time, I opened my mouth to really taste him. I wasn't thinkin' about right and wrong, I was thinkin' about what felt good, and right then Dally's body pressed up along mine felt good, made my head spin. He held my wrists tight, even tighter when I tried to pull them away to get a hold on him. He rocked against me, making me whimper and the door rattle. Without words he backed up and pulled me along with him until we reached the edge of the bed.

We hit the mattress with a thump, the springs squeaking beneath our bodies. I got tangled in my shirt when he tugged it over my head but quit struggling when he ran a hand down my stomach to the start of my jeans and back up again. I arched my back, trying to get him to do it again, but it was all about new thrills this time around for Dallas. I was fucking terrified, had never done anything like what we were doing, about to do, in the middle of doing, but Dally was being gentle in a rough way. Each time he bit down too hard he'd run his tongue along the tender skin in apology, turning my hisses of pain into pleasure. When my mouth found his again the sharp taste of iron came along with it, blood mixing with spit. We couldn't see each other too well in the darkness, but that made it that much more exciting, not knowing what the other was doin' until we felt it. "Ahh!" First went his jacket, then his shirt. I was amazed by the smoothness of his skin, wondered _how_ when he can't go a week without gettin' into a fight, until my fingers brushed over thin scars along the back of his toned arms and shoulders. Looked like Dallas'd left New York with more than memories.

Back to kissing, but hungrier, more urgent, distracting. He undid my belt and slid his hands over my hips, down the inside of my thigh. My breath hitched in my throat when he moved again, upwards. "Shit--!"

"Shhhh..." Ice blue eyes peered at me from behind messy bangs. His mouth on mine again, stifling the moans I couldn't hold back. Came back up for air, squeezing, gasping. Spit between us, cigarette smoke and liquor, buzzed and relaxed. Cool air against my legs when I squirmed out of my jeans, yanking at Dally's belt loops, our fingers fumbling together to get his off. Kicking at the sheets, my arms around his neck. He held me against him, tight, skin against skin, wet, anxious.

Dallas buried his face in my shoulder and sunk his teeth into already delicate skin when he finally pushed in. There'd been no warning, no one'd told me it'd hurt that fucking bad. I saw stars, even forgot what the hell was going on until he brought me back. "Fuck..." His voice was muffled, strained. "Oh, fuck...!"

Slow at first, using what I swear was all the patience he's saved up through his whole life, the headboard rapping against the wall behind us. "P-please, Dal...!" All I could think to do was beg. Dizzying pain started to feel good, better than anything I'd ever felt, so good I thought I'd go blind. Muscles tensed and I slung a leg over his hip, deeper, harder. I was sputtering a stream of nonsense by then and I'm pretty sure Dally was answering me somehow and when he hit a sweet spot, I choked on words. He bucked against me when he came, and it wasn't long before I followed.

I was dead weight, arms and legs like a doll's, lifeless. Dallas rolled over, off of me, and stretched out alongside me like a cat, gazing at me with half-lidded eyes. The urge to sleep washed over me. Neither of us was about to catch our breath. I hesitated before reaching out and touching him again, just fingertips along his bicep. Fucking was one thing, something harsh, but this was another. Jealousy towards all the girls, especially Sylvia, and Jake, slipped in and out of focus. Dally glanced lazily at my hand, but then brushed it off, pulling my forehead to his shoulder, lips against the top of my head, the closest thing to a real, genuine hug he'd ever given me.

"Johnny fucking Cade," he mumbled into my hair. "Jesus..."

I closed my eyes, yawned into the base of his throat, resisted kissing his adam's apple when he swallowed. The music from downstairs flooded into my ears the same time blood started returning to my head, the two pulses mixing till I couldn't tell which one was which. It didn't matter, though. Not then.

Hell if I knew what did.

* * *

Sorry that took so long. Hope it was everything I built it up to be! ♥ I've actually got the next chapter written, but you've gotta let me know if this one was any good, first. ;) 


	9. Chapter 9

If I remember right, the mattress springs woke me up the next morning. They groaned when Dally got up. I don't know whether he tried to keep quiet or if it didn't matter to him that I was awake.

I picked my head up from the pillow, wanting to spit my tongue out it felt so thick, and rubbed the back of my neck, hissed when my fingers brushed tender skin. His side of the bed was still warm when I dropped my arm to the sheets. I noticed spots of blood, red against the white of the pillow case, and the dull taste of iron when I wet my lips. My face went hot when I remembered what'd happened the night before; what he'd done to me, what I'd done to him, what we'd done to each other. I didn't pay much attention to what he was doing just then; I wanted to concentrate on the scent of sweat, of sex, like Steve's car after a night at the drive-in. I reeked of it but it felt right so I just breathed it in, hungry and content at the same time. Finally.

The door slammed.

"Dally?"

His clothes were gone, and Jake's shirt was alone on the floor. Somewhere in the seconds that followed it dawned on me to roll out of bed, untangle my jeans from the sheets, scoop my shirt up and stumble after him. My bare feet padded against the floor boards, and I reached the end of the hallway in time to hear his boots take the stairs two at a time. No one else was up; the hallway was empty and dark, like our room. I didn't know who was around to hear us, but Jake's door was closed and probably locked for all I knew. "Dally?" Another door slammed, from downstairs, before I started down the stairs and then, outside. It was dusk, and still cool. It smelled like rain from the storm the night before and the ground was wet. I shivered when the air hit my skin.

He was halfway to Shepard's car when I caught up, his back to me. "Dally!" My fingers met familiar leather and grabbed hold.

Dally pulled away, hands jammed in his pockets. "Stop." Soft, comin' from him. He turned around but still wouldn't look me in the eye. "Johnny, listen t'me."

The content feeling was gone. I wanted to apologize but wasn't exactly sure for what. I waited for him to start laughing and tell me the joke was on me, and boy should I see my face 'cause he really had me goin' there for a minute.

Dally wasn't gonna start laughing. "We can't do that again." The words came so slow, or maybe I just didn't want to hear them.

I frowned, started to shake my head. "Dally..." What was I, a broken record? My face was burning and I felt sick.

"No, I mean it." Eye to eye, finally. "Whatever it takes, we can't do that again." So blond against the gloomy sky. He had good posture for a greaser, or maybe that's what made him such a good hood. People respect you when you tower over them. They're afraid.

"But..." Words, Johnny, say words. Sentences, even.

"But what?" The tone of his voice made my ears ring it was so harsh. I flinched. "Don't go acting like it meant somethin' to you, Johnny."

My chest sank when he said it. He knew better than anyone how much it meant, but just that he'd say it hurt. He knew. I swallowed the lump in my throat. "Maybe it did."

"Oh, right, great. So what now? You wanna make this a routine thing, me draggin' you out here every weekend to fuck you against the door of some shitty ranch house? That's what you want?"

"No..." Whatever the hell this was, this conversation we were having, it wasn't what I'd pictured happening. It hadn't sounded like that when I'd thought about it earlier, half snuggled, half wedged between his arm and shoulder, listening to his even breathing. It'd seemed so real then, like maybe he'd realized, maybe he didn't mind acknowledging it. But now he was gonna make up an excuse to get out of whatever he thought I was cookin' up, like I was some girl he was screwing on the side, buggin' him to come meet her folks to make it official.

"Then _what_?" I wondered if he took off on Sylvia before she woke up, if he even stayed the night with her.

"I don't know!" It was gettin' real hard to keep my voice down. The worst thing was wanting to hear him say my nickname, to know all he needed was time to think, to know that even if he was pissed then, he wasn't going to be forever. Whose bright idea was it to call me 'Johnnycake' in the first place? "I don't know what you want me to say."

"I don't want you say to anything." He shook his head, running both hands through his hair, looking around like the answer to the problem was somewhere above my head or to the left of me. "I mean, Christ!" He was getting antsy. "It ain't like you're in love with me or anything." Either it was him tryin' to lighten the mood or tryin' to see what'd I'd deny.

I stared at my feet.

"Holy shit, Johnny!"

"Just forget it," I pleaded frantically. The ball was droppin' and we weren't catching it. "We can act like it never happened and go back to bein' buddies and that'll be it." It was all I could hope for at that point, even if it was a long shot.

"It don't work like that." Dally kept shaking his head at me. "It don't work like that at all...!" He was startin' to scare me, startin' to make me think he wasn't only talking about screwin' around. He was talkin' about being around each other _at all._

"It'll work, it will." Who was I tryin' to convince?

"No, it won't!"

"It worked with Jake."

His eyes went wide.

I might've felt it before it was even there: white hot pain at my temple. Dally's knee-jerk reaction was to cuff me right across the face.

He'd never hit me before. Through all the years I'd known him and worshiped the ground he spat on, he'd never hit me. Dally'd even taken a swing or two at Darry before but he'd never even hinted at wanting to hit me. And if I'm right, if that's the case, he chose right then and there to make up for all the times he could've, should've and would've, because he didn't stop. I should've run, don't know why I didn't. Without any other warning he let loose on me.

When I met with the ground he went for me, anywhere not covered by my arms. If he hadn't knocked the wind out of me somewhere near the start of it all, I would've screamed bloody murder. I couldn't get away, couldn't think, couldn't do anything but just let it happen and his boots were ice cold against my bare skin when he kicked me once, twice, again and again, and I would've given anything to go back to that vacant lot with Bob and his Soc buddies. The four of them together hadn't hit that hard, had at least left me with enough air to scream. Not Dallas. He fought the same way he fucked: hard and blind. Maybe it just felt good to hit me, maybe that's all I'm good for. Does that make it right? 'Cause that means my old man's a saint, and I've been wrong all along. Means all the times I've tried to hide the bruises under long sleeve shirts and jackets, bangs and cigarettes, I've really been hiding from the truth that maybe I really am worthless.

He stopped going when I stopped stopping, let me roll over on my stomach when my arms went limp. I just gave up. I heard him gasping over the blood pounding in my ears, couldn't hear anything but gasp, thud, gasp, thud. Surprised there was any blood left in my body.

"You don't know _shit_."

The gasping stopped and footsteps picked up where the they'd left off. The iron taste was back, nowhere near as dull as before. Breathing was hard but coughing came easy. I was made of lead, my head spun, my chest ached. Where was the cop car, the mustang? Where were Soda, Pony, the gang? Tight arms, sheet-white skin, that warm bed...

An engine revved and tires screeched, kicking up dust, and pretty soon all there was, was thud thud thud.


	10. Chapter 10

The sound of gravel shifting under shoes. Warm, soaked clothing plastered to my chest and legs. Help'd finally come around; messy brown hair, a muffled voice, shaking me, weight against my back. 

"Hey, Pony." I mumbled, wincing at the pain in my mouth as he crouched down next to me. "What're you doin' here? Darry's gonna be pissed." So glad to see him, even if it'd only been a day.

"Don't talk, kid, it'll only make things worse." My vision came into focus and disappointment washed over me when I saw it wasn't Ponyboy, but Jake. Tears started at the corners of my eyes. There was no way to tell how long I'd been lying there. We must've been the only one up because we were alone; the rest of the ranch was still quiet. Jake pulled me up into a sitting position next to him on the ground. His jeans were dirty.

"You're all right." His voice was just a whisper, like he didn't want anyone else to hear. Soothing, secretive.

It came outta nowhere; I just started laughing--or maybe it was crying--and I couldn't stop. His hands on my shoulders, squeezing gently, like a girl's.

"I'm sorry, Johnny." My name sounded so nice when he said it. I wanted to hear it again, it was the first time he'd used it. He smoothed my hair against my face, his thumb tracing my eyebrow. Not knowing what else to do, I let him. I didn't care, anyway. Seemed like everyone'd been getting their fair share of touching me. Why did I fall in love with anyone who noticed me?

"What're you sorry for?" It was really kinda funny, but he wasn't getting it. "This's how you want it, right? Don't you feel better now that I got what was comin' to me?" I was sorry I'd gotten into Shepard's car the day before. I was sorry I'd followed Dal up the stairs. I was sorry I'd gotten out of bed. What'd Jake have to be sorry about?

"It ain't like that."

I didn't bother believing him. "What makes you so special, anyway?" I glowered at him, at his hands, coughing. I pulled my legs up together, blocked him out. "It ain't fair, it ain't!"

Jake had soft looks that softened even more at the sound of crying. "What're you talking about?"

"Whaddya mean what'm I talkin' about?" I hated him. "He tries to ditch me after one go but don't mind hanging around you? You don't know 'im like I do, you don't deserve it, you didn't want it as long as me!" Yelling like that was startin' to make me dizzy. I rested my forehead against my knees, breath hot against my arms.

"You aren't the only one who admires the guy, Johnny." There was my name again. Johnny Johnny Johnny. "An' you aren't the only one he took off on, either."

He sat there, listening to me crying for a few minutes, saying nothin'. "Where's it hurt?"

"Everywhere." My head hurt, my chest hurt, my arms hurt, my legs hurt. All I knew was how to hurt. I wiped my eyes on the back of my arms but it didn't do much good.

"Think you can get up? It ain't far to my truck." Hands at my elbows now, urging me to stand. "I don't know where the nearest hospital is, but I can get you home so your folks can take you."

Pulling back, like a little kid refusing to go to bed for a babysitter. "No hospitals." I've seen the way doctors look at me. Socs in white lab coats, lookin' down their noses at me like I'm not worth the stitches, the bandages, the pain killers. "And I can't go home." I tried not to picture what'd happen if Jake dumped me off on our front porch.

"All right, but at least lemme take a look at you. I'm no M.D., but I've got a first aid kid in the trunk." Close became closer as he shifted so he could slip an arm under mine, hoisting me up and letting me lean against him. We started towards the stables where an old, red pick up was sitting in the shade. He let me down to dig through the covered trunk.

I pressed my cheek against the cool metal of the bumper, so good against the brimming headache threatening to spill over inside my skull.

"Hey now, don't bleed all over it, I just washed 'er." It obviously wasn't true. Heaving the kit out from under a pile of tools, he knelt down next to me again. Hissing under his breath, it was clear he didn't know where to start, couldn't decide what was hurt worst. "Shit, kid. He really did a number on you," he mumbled, shuffling the kit's contents around. It was almost empty; plenty of people must've been tossed around a lot in the rodeos over the years.

My eyes flicked up to his face as he leaned forward to peel my shirt--his shirt--back, making a face when he saw the marks Dally's boots'd left behind, but I was used to people making faces at my bruises, cuts and breaks. A sharp pain made me sit up straight when Jake started dabbing at the blood soaking into the shirt. Gentle but insistent, he put a hand against my chest to hold me still. I clenched my jaw, trying to worry more about what he was talking about than the pain, watching him through watery eyes.

"Stop lookin' at me like that already."

"What happened between you and Dal?" Since we were so suddenly alike, since he wasn't angry or avoiding me anymore, I took a chance and asked. He opened his mouth, to make an excuse. "And don't tell me 'nothin',' okay? I'm not stupid."

He heaved a sigh and pushed aside whatever he wanted to say instead, rubbed the back of his neck like he did when he was nervous. "We messed around after a rodeo one time... about a year ago."

There it was, the truth the three of us'd been dancin' around since the day before. It felt like I'd been turned inside out.

"It just kind've happened, I don't think either of us planned on it." I gulped, held my tongue. "He took off on me and didn't come back for weeks. When he finally did, he tried to convince me he'd been drunk, like it wasn't his fault, y'know? He played it off like it wasn't a big deal." Jake made another face, this one for a different reason. He kept wiping at the blood, mindful of the bruises. "But then it happened again. And again, and again. I know I don't know you real well, but I just didn't want him to do it to you, too, 'cause it hurts, wantin' somethin' from him he doesn't want to give you." He meant it, and closed the kit in frustration. "You've gotta get this looked at, I can't do shit with what I've got."

I shook my head, wiped at new tears.

"Don't be dumb. You're lookin' at some nasty bruises and a broken rib or two, and you can't stay here, so there's gotta be some place else you can go." I didn't want to stay there anyway, not if I could do anything about it. Then it hit me. _Of course._

"I know a place."

* * *

Jake slipped an arm around me and let me lean against him, slammin' the car door behind him. Climbin' those porch steps was the hardest thing I've ever done in my life; it took forever to set one foot in front of the other, from step to step. The world spun. Jake knocked solidly on the front door, holding the screen ajar with a foot.

I wanted to tell him it was unlocked, but before I could open my mouth, Darry's voice came from inside. "It's open!" I could hear the tv. Jake shifted his weight and pounded on the door again.

Ponyboy answered the door, pushing the screen open. He and Jake really did look alike. It took him a second. "_Johnny_?"

"Here, take 'im. My arms're killin' me." The ground moved and I stumbled from one pair of arms to another. Pony steadied me

"What happened to him?" I felt his voice vibrate in his chest, tried to get a better hold on the ground.

"Who's out there?" Darry's voice, coming from inside but getting closer. "Ponyboy? Oh, Christ..."

"What's goin' on?" Soda shoved between his brothers, eager to see what everyone was looking at, but stopped short when he saw Jake.

Jake's light brown eyes focused on Soda and a smug look came over him. "Hey, Curtis. Didn't know there were so many of you. This the whole litter or you got more chained up in the back yard?"

Darry was eying Jake with complete mistrust, and Pony didn't seem to like him much, either. I'd never heard anyone talk to Soda like that before. He seemed real uncomfortable; he only put on that face for Socs. "Hey, Jake."

"What _happened_?" Darry's voice, angry and biting. It was nice to have someone mad for me instead of at me, for a change.

"Didn't see it myself, but looks like he got the tar beaten out've 'im." Jake sounded tired.

"I can see that, thanks. Got any idea who did it?" The way Darry asked it, that sarcastic, suspicious anger of his, made it seem like he thought Jake'd done it. One look at Pony and Soda's faces told me they were thinkin' the same thing.

Jake caught on quick and glowered. "Oh right, like breakin' the kid in half is somethin' I'd wanna take credit for in front of someone like you." Darry happened to be wearing one of his black rumble shirts. "It's Winston's fault, try askin' him."

"_Dally_?" Ponyboy squeaked. His fingers dug into my jacket. All I wanted was to lie down.

Darry narrowed his eyes at Jake. "Where's he now?"

"Don't know," came the answer. "Don't think any of us'll find out for a while."

Darry'd make a good cop, he asked so many questions. "You didn't think of takin' Johnny to the hospital?"

"Wouldn't let me. Wouldn't let me take him home, neither, so here we are." He shoved his hands into his pockets. "Think you can take it from here? I gotta get back." Jake started down the steps at an amble with his long legs and hunched shoulders. Darry cleared his throat.

"Hey." Jake waited. "You see Dally before us, you let him know Darrel wants a word."

"Yeah," Jake rubbed the back of his neck. "I'll tell 'im." He glanced back at me, a small smirk on his face. "See ya 'round, kid." He glanced at Soda. "Take care, Curtis." Soda didn't answer back.

The four of us watched him go. I heard the truck's engine start and roll down the driveway before taking off down the street.

Soda leaned down to my eye level, lookin' so worried that I smiled as best I could just to cheer him up. I didn't want to tell him that most of the bruises he could see weren't from that morning, but the night before. I was too scared of what he or anyone else would think if I told. I was afraid of what Dal'd do, if I ever saw him again. "C'mon, Johnny, lets get you inside." He lifted me up and I buried my head in the crook of his neck, listening to his light breathing and footsteps as he carried me inside. The screen door banged shut behind us. He was so warm against me, the soft cotton of his shirt. I smelled the fabric softener Darry used in the laundry, and felt sorry when I realized I'd rubbed blood off on him. I tried to say something but my back met with the soft cushions of the Curtis' couch and I forgot how to talk, both from the pain in my chest and the relief of finally being able to lie down. "Pony, go get him some asprin, will ya?" Someone draped a blanket over me, pulled off my shoes and tossed them aside. As far as I was concerned, this was my hospital, my home. No one took care of me, cared about me, like they did. I didn't want to think about Dally, I didn't want to think about Jake or how bad I'd fucked up anything and everything.

I was asleep before Pony came back with the asprin.

* * *

Minutes, hours, days, who knows what the hell'd passed by when I opened my eyes again? The room was dark, the only light came from the door, cracked just a few inches. I could hear voices, snippets of conversation. First Two-Bit's voice, then Darry's, and Soda's.

"Was he drunk?"

"You're askin' if Dallas Winston was drunk? It's Dallas, Two-Bit, what do_ you_ think?"

"Yeah... but_ Johnny_?"

Silence. Hearing it aloud made it seem that much more real, 'specially comin' from someone like Two-Bit.

Then he said something that didn't make sense at first. "You think Superman ever hit that Lane broad?"

"Dunno," Soda sighed, "but maybe Clark Kent did."

Thud thud thud.

I closed my eyes.


	11. Chapter 11

Darry half woke me up what I guessed was the next morning. I was already half awake before he came into the living room. "Breakfast's on the table if you're hungry." 

"No thanks." He didn't object, just tossed me my shoes. When I gave him a questioning look, he pulled the blanket off me.

"You've gotta see a doctor today, after I drop Soda and Steve off." The clock on the wall read 8:30. School'd started an hour earlier and Pony was already gone. I waited for Darry to tell me I'd be joining him right after the hospital trip, but he didn't say anything else. I followed him into the kitchen where the rest of the gang, minus Dally and Ponyboy were eating.

Steve choked on his glass of orange juice when he saw me. "Holy shit, kid, what the fuck?"

"Way to 'keep quiet about it,' jackass." Two-Bit threw the rest of his bacon at Steve in frustration just as Soda smacked him upside the head. I checked my pockets for a smoke, being used to Randall's bouts of unobservance.

Steve fought themoff with his fork. "Well, geez, maybe if you gave a guy some warning..."

"What the hell'd you think '_keep quiet about it_' meant?"

Irritation welled up inside me. "Anybody got a cigarette?" I wasn't in the mood for their early morning shit.

"That's the last thing you need." Darry glared at Two-Bit, who'd reached for his back pocket. "We should get going."

Soda glanced at his watch and whistled. "Whoa, you're right." He grabbed the bacon Two-Bit'd thrown and jammed it into his mouth before he and Steve bounded out the door to the car. Darry fished around in his pockets for the keys while I stuffed my shoes on. Matthews wasn't far behind. He leaped into the back of the pickup with the other two.

The Curtis' old Ford had belonged to their dad. Mr. Curtis'd been a nice guy. He'd always made sure to say hello whenever I was over. I climbed into the front seat next to Darry. The dashboard was worn down from people putting their feet up and the passenger door stuck, but all three of them loved that car, and so did almost anyone who bummed a ride in it.

We were down the road past the first stop sign when Darry spoke up. "So." I listened to him struggle for words and wondered if he'd ever kissed a guy, ever thought about kissing a guy. I wondered what it'd take for him hate someone. "It'd be a lot easier to decide where to go from here if you told me what happened between you and Dallas."

The yellow lines in the road were more appealing than the conversation we were having. Saying nothing seemed less painful.

"Johnny."

"Yeah." Soda, Steve and Two-Bit were laughing in the back, throwing rocks they'd found in the truck's bed at passing mailboxes. It was hard to concentrate. "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry, just tell me what happened." Suddenly it was easy to understand why Ponyboy had the short fuse he did when it came to Darry's questions.

"I don't know."

"That's not an answer." Darry made me nervous, but not like Socs and cops did. He had more authority than my folks sometimes, when he had a mind to tell me what to do. I didn't like being the center of his attention.

"What're you going to do to him?" My shoes were untied. I tried to remember where I'd bought them. They were so old that it wouldn't come to me.

"Depends on what he did to you. Was he drunk, or did you just get pulled into one of his stupid fights?"

"Yeah."

"Which one is it?"

"Neither."

"_Johnny_."

I sighed, teetering on the edge. Remember what I said about needing a smoke in the morning? "We were both drunk."

We stopped at a red light. "Both of you?"

"Yeah." I could see the school from where we were sitting. Ponyboy was somewhere inside. I should've been, too, but no one was missing me. It almost felt like I didn't go to school anymore, I'd been absent so many days in a row.

"You're only fifteen."

"Sixteen." Green light.

Darry shook his head. "That's not much better."

We pulled up next to the gas station and Soda and Steve jumped out before Darry'd even stopped the truck. Soda came around to the window while Steve unlocked the garage door. "Thanks for the ride, Dar. Feel better, Johnnycake." I nodded without looking at him. Sleep sounded so good at the time.

"Have a good shift, little buddy." Darry gave a small wave as we backed out of the parking lot. Two-Bit threw one last stone at Soda before he was out of range, and we sped off down the street towards the hospital.

* * *

Two-Bit was making eyes at the nurse sitting behind the reception desk. She looked up from her paper work, uninterested. "Can I help you?" 

"Hey, kitten." He leaned over the counter, an eyebrow cocked. "How about spendin' some of your nine lives with me?"

"Oh, for the_ love_ of..." Darry grabbed the back of Two-Bit's jacket and pulled him off the desk and out of the way. "We need a doctor."

"This is a hospital, sir. Almost everyone here needs a doctor." She frowned, unamused by Two-Bit's advances. "You'll have to wait your turn." Then she peered around Darry and caught sight of me. Maybe it was because I look younger than I really am, or maybe the bruise on my face was worse than even Steve'd let on, because she changed her mind. "Fortunately, the ER is almost empty today, so you won't have to wait long." With that she asked us to follow her.

The nurse opened the door to a small, white room, identical to all the others in the building. "A doctor will be with you shortly. I'll let one of them know you're in here." I nodded, hopped up on the paper-covered examination table and pulled my shirt off. I knew the drill. You pick up on certain things when you go through them over and over. Darry and Two-Bit disappeared behind the door when the nurse pulled it shut.

I sat shivering lightly until I heard muffled voices coming from behind the door. The doctor walked in not long after.

He gave me a once over before speaking. "Hello..."

"Johnny."

"Johnny, yes. Your friend Darrel tells me you fell during a rodeo."

"Yeah." Darry'd been nice enough to spare me the trouble of making a story up. Just one more thing to add to the list of thank-yous I owed him.

The doctor peeled back the bandages Jake'd placed over the worst cuts. He didn't seem pleased with what he saw as he prodded gently around the edges of the bruises. His name was stitched into the pocket of his lab coat, but I couldn't make it out through the cursive. It didn't matter, anyway. A few minutes later he backed out of my personal space.

"Aside from several massive bruises and the cuts on your legs and arms, you managed to avoid any serious injuries. No broken bones, just a bruised rib or two." The creases around his eyes seemed to deepen. "You're lucky," he said, "many incidents involving a horse like the one your friend described result in concussions."

"Lucky's not the word I'd use." I mumbled. The clean floor reflected the fluorescent lights hanging overhead and I tried to pass time by counting the tiles.

"Strange, though." The doctor soaped his hands in the nearby sink. "Most rodeo horses don't wear leather boots."

I stared at him. He chuckled sadly. "I graduated valedictorian after eight years at the most prestigious medical school in the state, son. I know the difference between horse and human shoe prints." He didn't say another word, just dried his hands and applied new bandages to my cuts, and wrapped an ace around my chest. I sat still with my arms lifted so he could do what he needed to. I just wanted to get the hell out of there. I wanted to be grateful to Darry, I wanted to feel like shit for making spend money he couldn't afford to waste on hospital visits for someone he wasn't even related to, for someone he probably didn't even like all that much, but I could only think about how much I wanted to run.

Before I knew it, he was handing me my discarded shirt. "Rest up for a few days. Bruised ribs aren't life threatening, but they're no walk in the park, either. Understand?"

I did, and told him so. The doctor grabbed the door handle and was halfway out when he turned back to look me in the eye. "If I were you, I would quit riding before I ended up here again in worse shape."

I kept my mouth shut. Being a perfect stranger, he wouldn't've believed me even if I'd said anything against it, anyway. He cast a glance at the small crowd gathered outside my room, and nodded to Darry, who stood up to shake his hand. Then he walked away, into the next room, without saying anything more.

Two-bit got up when I came out, and patted my shoulder gently; or at least it was gentle for him. "You gonna be all right? Nothin' broken, yeah?"

I nodded my head as Darry took my shirt. "He says I'm lucky." Maybe a concussion would have been less painful. At least then I could blame the mess in my head on something I couldn't control.

Neither of them could think of anything to say as I turned to lead the way out to the parking lot.

* * *

He smelled like cigarettes and some girl's perfume that lingered on his shirt from who knows when. I was cold but his hands were warm, and he wasn't being selfish. So forbidden and dangerously familiar. Fingertips and smooth grooves of clothed skin. Moans and gasps, tongues and spit. 

"_Oh God_..."

I sat up, sweating and miserable.

I'd never dreamed before in my life, or at least not that I could remember, but that night my mind just didn't want to settle down. I couldn't stay asleep. Usually after my dad knocks the shit out of me I sleep like I've been starved of rest, but all I could managefor days aftermy hospitalvisitwere short, fitfull naps.

I missed Dally. Despite the bruises and bandages I had to put up with because of him, I missed him. It wasn't just a physical thing, either. Once hadn't been enough, not after sixteen years of desperation, but it would have been so much easier to convince myself that the bruises were my old man's, that Dallas was still the same old Dallas I'd known all along. Unchanged, untainted. It seemed detatched, like maybe the whole thing was as unreal as the dreams keeping me awake. Jake, Darry, Two-Bit, Soda, Pony, the doctor; theyweren't enough to bring me around to reality. An extra pang of misery washed over me when I thought of how Dally must've hated me for messing around in his business, how he'd tried to ditch me.

The sound of footsteps made me realize someone was comin' down the hallway. I sat there on the couch, listening to them moving around, waiting to see if I could figure out who it was before they came around the corner.

There was a sudden crash as whoever it was ran into the Curtis' coffee table. "Ow, dammit!" Definitely Soda. I reached over and turned on the lamp sitting at the opposite end of the couch, and he froze like a deer caught in the headlights of a car, in the middle of nursing his shin. He stood straight when he saw me looking at him. "Oh, hey Johnny. Did I wake ya?" Darry must've told him to let me sleep, 'cause he gave me a guilty look.

I stifled a yawn to keep him from worrying. "Can't sleep."

He stretched lazily, convinced. "You hungry yet?"

"A little." Orange pancakes popped into my head and part of me wished I'd said no, so I changed the subject before he could say anything else. "Where is everyone?"

"It's early, man. Pony's at school, Darry's at work... Dunno where Two-Bit is. Steve took the day off, so you can come down to the station with me for awhile if you want." He casually shrugged into a button-down shirt. "Whaddya say?"

A Steve-free Soda is pretty hard to come by, maybe even harder than Sandy-free. "Yeah, sure."

"Cool." My stomach tightened when he smiled. It ain't what you're thinking, though. Everybody gets butterflies when they talk to Soda. Somethin' about him makes you feel like you'd do anything to keep him happy.

A glass of orange juice--forced down on Soda's orders after I refused a slice of chocolate cake--and one of Pony's clean white shirts later, and we were out the door and down the front walk towards the car.

The drive to the DX was the only thing I'd been able to tolerate in days. Soda didn't ask me any questions, didn't treat me like a five year old with a paper cut. He just turned on the radio and let the music do it's job. We reached the gas station too soon for my liking, in the middle of one of my favorite songs.

Once Soda unlocked the back door to let us in, he flicked the switch and the main room was flooded with light. In the middle of the garage floor sat a Mustang. A brand new, bright blue Mustang.

He glanced over his shoulder and saw me mesmerized, a knowing look on his face. "She only needs an oil change, but she's ours till this afternoon. Go on, get in."

I curled my fingers around the handle and pulled; it clicked and the door swung open, bouncing against its hinges. I pressed my back against the smooth leather seat, both hands on the steering wheel. The tips of my shoes touched the peddles when I reached. "Wow."

Coming around the other side, Soda plopped himself down in the passenger seat. It wasn't_ the_ Mustang, Bob's Mustang, but it was damn near exact.

Awe kept me quiet. It wasn't that the car was worth more than anything I'd ever make in my life; that wasn't news to me. But being there in that seat... I'm no good with words and I know I'd only fuck it up if I tried to explain it.

"You don't have to tell Darry what happened, Johnny."

Soda's words fuzzily buzzed around in my head until I realized he'd said them. You can't hide much from him. He must've known Darry would interrogate me the second he got the chance. "I know."

"I know you know, but he don't have to."

"You don't know, either." I thought to ask him whether or not he was serious about marryin' Sandy. He loves talkin' about her.

"No, but I can take a pretty good guess." There was that knowing face again. I remembered Jake's smug look, the comments he'd made.

"I don't really wanna talk about it." It was the truth. I couldn't see what telling Soda that Dally'd fucked me would do to make the situation any better. If anything, it'd just make things worse.

His face fell. "Johnny..."

Something in me snapped. "I said I don't wanna talk about it!" Without thinking about it I jammed my palms into the wheel and the horn blared, echoing angrily off the garage walls. Soda jumped, startled by the sudden noise, and I felt my face go hot. I stared ahead through the windshield, wishing I was anywhere else other than in a blue Mustang, like the one Bob owned; or rather, the one his parents'd bought for him. I could picture his ringed fingers grasping the wheel. The idea of it made me sick.

"I gotta go." The door was locked when I tried the handle so I skipped the whole ordeal and climbed out.

"Johnny, wait." Soda flipped the lock and pushed his door open. "Johnny!"

I ran out the back door. After doing nothing but think about it since it happened, I was tired of all the dead ends I kept slamming into.


	12. Chapter 12

I don't know why I ran from Soda, who was only trying to help, and not from Dally, who'd clearly been trying to screw me over. I guess sometimes you do things you just can't explain.

My ribs weren't up for the long run I wanted to make. Feet pounding against the sidewalk cement, I made it to the street and down a block and a half before I couldn't go any further, my breath coming in shuddering gasps. Hands on my knees, coughing so hard my throat felt raw, I chanced a glance behind me to see if Soda'd come after me. I didn't think he would, there'd be no one to man the DX.

I'd run all the way to the Dingo. Without any money, though, I didn't have much of a reason to stick around. I hadn't been in a while, but saw several cars I recognized parked in the lot. One of them, a dark green Dodge, belonged to one of Tim Shepard's buddies whose name I didn't know. Their gang must've been inside. Breathing normally again, I started idly down the street as Shepard and his gang, almost as if on cue, came out the front into the parking lot. They were climbing into the Dodge, and before I could duck out, Tim caught sight of me, his hand on the car door.

"Hey!"

I debated whether or not to ignore him, but it was too late. He'd seen me pause and knew I'd heard him. "Hey, you!"

"Yeah?" Turning around was pretty much the only option. Tim left the car and came towards me.

"You're one of Winston's faggot friends, aren't you?" He didn't mean it literally; Shepard likes using words that sting. He talks and talks, but most of the stuff that comes out of his mouth is bullshit. I think he just likes the sound of his own voice. Curly and the other guys behind him started laughing. I felt my face redden.

"What do you want?"

"That sleazy coward nabbed my car a few days ago," he spat. "Know where I can find him?"

"No."

Tim eyed me suspiciously. "You're lying."

"I'm not." I glared. "Why don't you go to the cops if you want your car back so bad?"

The way he regarded me answered my question for him. The car really hadn't been his to begin with. Dallas was like the vulture who'd stolen the lion's carcass from the hyena. This was a human version of some wildlife documentary the science teachers put on when they didn't want to teach. I hated everyone involved.

"You talk pretty big for a snot nosed punk." Tim hissed. "Why's a guy like Winston bother to keep you around, anyway?"

Disgusted, I turned to leave without answering, but Tim grabbed the back of my shirt and yanked. "I'm talking to you!"

"Hey!"

Both Tim and I looked up to see Two-Bit coming down the sidewalk, half running, half ambling. He wasn't close enough to tell if something was starting or not. When he saw my shirt bunched up in Shepard's fist, though, he caught on.

"Lay off, Shepard." Two-Bit warned, pushing me an arm's length behind him with an outstretched hand against my chest. "You want our help next week, you leave Johnny alone."

"Just doin' what I do, Matthews." Shepard grinned toothily. Two-Bit wasn't impressed.

"Yeah, well," he scowled. "Anyone who told you to be yourself couldn't've given you worse advice."

This time the group behind Tim was laughing at him, 'stead of me. Shepard's eyes glazed over with confusion for a second before he grabbed the collar of Two-Bit's Mickey Mouse shirt and raised a fist like he was about to punch him in the face. Before the rest of Shepard's friends could do anything to help, though, Two-Bit'd whipped out his switchblade and pressed the tip against Shepard's neck. It didn't take long for Tim to let him go.

"Get outta here before you really piss me off." He snapped, glowering at me from around Two-Bit, who kept his kife out, blade cocked and everything. It gleamed in the dim morning sunlight. I saw Curly staring at it, almost admiringly.

"C'mon, Johnny."

After we'd rounded the corner and walked down the sidewalk some, and once Two-Bit'd stopped muttering under his breath about how Shepard was twice as dumb as he was ugly, I let my curiosity get the best of me.

"What's happening next week?"

"Hm?" Two-Bit lit a cigarette, then held the pack out to me, hoping to distract me.

I took a cigarette and borrowed his lighter. "What's Tim need us for next week?" Shepard and his gang got themselves into more trouble than our group did, and when he got in over his head he'd usually swallow his pride and ask for help.

Two-Bit shrugged. "I dunno nothin'."

No way was I letting him get away without giving him a hard time first. "Darry ain't the boss of me. Tell me what's going on."

"Nah, kid, it ain't just Darry. Steve, Soda'n me think you oughta sit it out, too. No sense sending you right back to the hospital." I thought of Soda back at the DX, and the old frustration renewed itself. Hitting something sounded real good at the time. Usually I don't like fights, for obvious reasons.

"I'm fine. I've been in worse shape before."

He shifted uncomfortably. Other people get awkward when I mention past bang ups, probably because I don't do it often.

Time to change the subject. "Is Ponyboy gonna fight?"

He shrugged again. "Doubt it. Shepard's pushin' for blades, so I dunno who's in, 'cept me." It made sense that Two-Bit'd jump on a chance to pull out his prized switchblade. It was mostly for show, but he knew how to use it. I didn't know how good Shepard was with a knife, but I knew Dallas was better.

"Anyways." He sighed heavily. "I'm meetin' up with Kathy at the Dingo. Wanna come?"

Shaking my head, I tossed the half-smoked cigarette to the sidewalk and ground it out with the heel of my shoe. "You go ahead."

He didn't insist. We both knew it was a lot easier to get laid when you didn't have to babysit. One last glance up the sidewalk to make sure Shepard wasn't lurking in the bushes was all Two-Bit needed to feel like I'd be all right without him. "See ya 'round, then." He crossed the street, hands in his pockets, cigarette dangling from his lips.

I went in the opposite direction, towards the vacant lot a few blocks from my house. Anyone who knows me well enough knows they can find me there if I'm not at the Curtis'.

The alleyway was mostly empty, except for a few metal trash cans and the piles of cardboard boxes strewn across the ground. I kicked broken glass away from a spot and sat down, fished a tennis ball from under one of the boxes, and threw it at the opposite wall. Right then all I wanted was something to occupy my mind so I wouldn't have to think, make excuses or avoid looking anyone in the eye. Damn Shepard.

"Hey Johnny." Glancing up, I saw Pony standin' at the mouth of the alley. He grinned at me, sheepishly.

"What're you doing here?" Even if I hadn't seen a clock since the one hanging on the Curtis' living room wall, I knew it was way too early for school to be out.

"Forgot to study for a test, so I figured I'd see what you were up to instead." He set the books down, holding his palms out, wanting me to toss the ball it to him. It wasn't like Pony to skip class, so I held onto the ball and stared up at him.

"What for?"

"I dunno, just thought you could use someone to talk to."

Why not? There was a reason I called him my best friend. I gave in, looked away, back at the wall. "Anyone's better than Darry."

He laughed. "You're tellin' me." I chucked the tennis ball at the bricks, and it ricocheted off. Pony caught it in midair.

"You know about the rumble comin' up next week?"

He threw the ball in one fluid motion. He would've been good at football, like Darry, if he'd filled out more. "I heard Soda and Darry talkin't about it, but I didn't listen real close."

"Somethin' Shepard's started. They're talkin' about blades."

Ponyboy whistled, overwhelmed, and threw the ball again. "I've got a track meet next week. Don't think a hole in my side would help me run any faster."

We lapsed into silence for a few minutes, taking turns catching and throwing the ball at the wall.

My elbow brushed against Pony's books after a throw, and when I looked down, I noticed his sketchpad sticking out from the middle of the stack. Ponyboy was always drawing. Either that, or reading. When he wasn't studying, I mean. His hands were usually smeared with pencil lead, eraser shavings covering every surface he drew on. He especially liked drawing people, and since the six of us were the people he saw most, at least one of us was usually the subject of his sketches.

I pulled the sketchbook out, careful not to upset the other books. The cover was worn, edges curled from use. I fanned the pages through my fingers, and stopped on a random page. Fingering the dog eared edges, I turned the sketchbook so the drawing was right-side up, my head tilted to see it better. Ponyboy was practicing balancing the tennis ball on the tip of his index finger, but he glanced at me between tries, watching for my reaction.

The first face I made out of the group he'd sketched was mine. Suddenly I recognized the drawing; it was of a picture Mrs. Curtis'd taken in their backyard. Darry had an arm around Pony's shoulder, and Steve and Soda where making faces, eyelids pulled and tongues out. Dally hadn't been looking at the camera. Two-Bit was trying to give me bunny ears, but I'd caught on just as Mrs. Curtis'd taken the picture. It'd been hot that day; we'd played football all afternoon, stopping only when Mr. Curtis came home from work. We'd all stayed for dinner because Mrs. Curtis hated the idea of any of us leaving hungry. She'd even made sure Dally'd stayed. I couldn't believe how much younger we all looked, but there we were, set in lead and paper.

"You can have it, if you want." Pony was tearing it out of the ring binding before I could stop him. "I've got the real thing at home." He held it out to me.

"You sure?" Pony's real keen on his drawings; he's got dozens of sketchbooks filled to the brim, but you have to pry them out of his hands to get at them. Makes me wonder what he'll be like with his kids.

He nodded, gave the tennis ball another fling. I folded the paper into fourths without creasing it too bad, and slipped it into my back pocket where it wouldn't get crumpled.

"Thanks."

He just smiled.


	13. Chapter 13

Since it really wasn't at all like Pony to skip a class, after an hour or so he said he ought to be getting back. I walked with him, leaving the tennis ball behind for next time.

"You're not coming?" He asked, his foot on the first step leading to the front door, a hand on the railing.

I shook my head. "Nah. I'm goin' home."

For a second I thought he hadn't heard me, because he just looked at me. Then he shrugged, almost disappointed. "Yeah... Okay." He glanced up, blinking at the cloudy sky. "It's gonna rain." The wind was picking up. "You better run if you wanna make it home dry."

* * *

My folks were fighting again, in the kitchen. I heard them yelling before I was even up the porch steps. Slipping into the house without them hearing was easy. I tiptoed through the living room where my mom'd left the television on, and up the stairs.

It was raining pretty hard by the time I reached my dark room. I pulled off the shirt I'd borrowed from Pony and hung it over the back of my desk chair, smoothing it out as best I could so it wouldn't wrinkle too bad, but Darry wouldn't complain about something like having to iron one more silly shirt with all the ironing he already did. Rifling around in the dresser didn't get me any clean shirts, so I dug one out of the laundry basket in my closet.

Downstairs the yelling had gotten worse. Against a wall, a plate shattered. More yelling. Someone was knocking chairs over. My mom's voice, then my dad's.

The storm pounded on the roof, like someone was up there with a jack hammer, drilling away. Almost like they were drilling right into my head, the noise was so loud. Lightening. Thunder. Crash, crash, crash.

I just sat on my bed. I couldn't hear what they were arguing about--it was raining too hard, but I was sure it was nothin' new. Not like there'd be anything I could do about it if it weren't, anyway. I'd still been up there, staring at the wall or my shoes or chewin' my finger nails. I couln't even smoke; I needed a window open so the place wouldn't smell like a cigarette, but it was too wet outside, and cold.

I thumped the back of my head against the headboard of the bed in time with some beat I heard once over the radio. Thump, thump, thump.

Crash, crash, crash.

If I ever get a girlfriend, I'm never gonna bring her to my house, not even once. I'll take her to the lot or to Ponyboy's house, or even Buck Merrill's place before I ever bring her home. She might think I look like my dad if she ever met him, or somethin' terrible like that, somethin' I'd never live down even if we broke up.

A door slammed. I rolled over onto my stomach, wrapping my arms around a pillow, wondering about the rumble next week. Anything to keep my mind off Dally would do. I wondered where he was, like I had since he'd driven off in Shepard's car. He wouldn't be at Buck's, or the Dingo, and definitely not at Jake's. Maybe the cops'd caught him driving the stolen car and he was in jail. Wouldn'tve surprised me if he'd been arrested. It wouldn'tve been the first time.

Suddenly footsteps thundered up the stairs. My dad was coming down the hall. "Johnny? Where are you, you worthless, waste of a kid...?"

I froze. There's nothing worse than fresh bruises overlapping already black and blue skin. Fighting with my mom was only foreplay for my dad. He doesn't usually hit her, not unless I'm not around. He likes to get into screaming fights with her; she can yell louder than me and always hits back. It's like they trade anger or something.

As though out of instinct, I leapt to my feet and locked the door just as my dad grabbed the handle. The door jerked on its hinges as I backed away from it. "Open this door right now, or I swear to God...!" The combination of thunder and my dad's furious banging was too much.

I flung the window open to a burst of cool, wet air. Without looking, not thinking about anything but escaping, I was halfway out when I crashed headfirst into something solid.

It was Dally.

He'd climbed up the side of the house, and was crouching down on the stretch of roof outside my window. By the looks of it, he hadn't been ready to come face-to-face so abruptly, and he grabbed my arm to steady himself in astonishment.

"What the--?"

We were inches apart, and his face was the only thing I could see through the downpour. His hair looked almost as dark as mine wet. I stared, frozen, into his wide ice blue eyes for what seemed like forever, but it couldn'tve been anywhere near that long because just then my dad's hand desperately grasped my ankle. Catching on faster than Two-Bit had earlier, Dallas was quicker on the uptake.

He yanked me out onto the wet roof next to him before my old man could pull me back in, and I heard the loose shingles shift under his feet as he stood up.

"Who the hell're you?" My dad's voice came from inside my room, bewildered and demanding.

Dallas answered by breaking his nose.

"You sick mother fucker!" He reached for my father, who'd stumbled back, swearing loudly, his hands over his freely bleeding nose.

Without so much as a look back, I scrambled to the ledge and used the gutter to swing myself off the edge of the roof, dropping to the ground some fifteen feet below. All that adrenaline running through my system wouldn't let me think clearly. I landed in the garden growing along the side of our house, overgrown with weeds we'd neglected to pull. My chest was aching, and the doctor's ace bandage was coming loose.

"Johnny!" Dally was calling after me over my father's threats to call the police.

I took off down the driveway. The opportunity to kick my father's ass must've been too much for him to pass up, because Dally didn't come after me.

When I run, I lose track of time. Things slow down and I don't realize how far or for how long I've been running. This time, I found myself stumbling into the vacant lot. Tripping over the tennis ball, I steadied myself against the brick wall, gasping for air. Water logged and shivering, I gulped down fresh, cold air, feeling light headed. What the fuck? _What the fuck?_

Thunder, lightening. We should never have... I shouldn'tve... I should've known better.

"Dammit._ Dammit_!"

What the hell had Dally been doing on my roof? What'd he think he was doing, beating the shit outta my old man? What the fuck would _that_ do?

There was a splash, and when I looked over, Dallas was standing in a puddle at the opening of the alley where Ponyboy'd been half an hour ago. It was just like him to know exactly where to look.

Too exhausted to run, but too startled and angry to stand still, I started for the back of the lot, towards a chain link fence I knew I had no chance of climbing in time. Three long strides and Dally'd grabbed me and spun me around.

I didn't want to look him in the face. "Lemme go!"

"Stop," he grasped my shoulders tightly, shaking me. "Johnny, stop!"

I hit him as hard as I could; hit his arms, kicked his legs, twisted in his grip. "Let go!"

"Just listen to me, will you?"

"No!" I squeezed my eyes shut, trying again to jerk free. "D'you know what it's like, when everyone you're supposed to be able to trust just winds up hitting you whenever they can't deal with something?" The blood from my dad's nose was smeared across his right hand, and in his haste Dallas was getting it all over my arms.

"Johnny, just--!"

"_Fuck you_!"

Now he was angry. His fingers dug in and he slammed me up against the alley wall.

I stopped struggling, breathing wildly, staring at him, half expecting him to hit me again. There was a kind of ringing in my ears, a buzzing just behind my temple. Nothing, nothing, nothing...

And then he pressed his mouth to mine. It was so unexpected that I almost cried out, but there was nowhere to run; he had me trapped. We were both drenched, clothes sticking to our skin, to each other. The forced contact turned into hurried, heated kissing, hungry and insistent. His familiar musky smell enveloped me, and all the longing that'd built up for almost two weeks came back in full force. Whimpering, I found that all I wanted, all I really wanted, was to forget about the words and the bruises and the lies, to tilt my head back and give in.

If I'd thought he'd been rough the first time, it was nothing compared to what he was doin' then; and if he felt the bandages through my shirt, if he caught glimpses of the bruises, the ace, he didn't let on. He held me up, my legs wrapped around his waist, my fingers grasping his shoulders. When he started concentrating on undoing belts and zippers, I went for his neck, trying to taste every uncovered inch of skin, but he pushed me off with a strong hand, pinning me back against the wall again. He was trying to prove a point.

It wasn't as painful the second time around, but more feverish, desperate. We were almost mauling each other.

It was angry. That's the best word I can put to it.

I came first that time, choking on a yell muffled by his shoulder. I felt his body shudder, and he thrust me to the wall one last time, swearing under his breath. The thunder drowned our voices out; it was a miracle no one saw us. My arms and legs were freezing, trapped under heavy, damp clothes, but wherever Dallas was pressed against me, I was warm.

He was holding me up with his body weight, our breathing coming in shallow pants. I rested my head back against the brick, chest heaving. A minute later, Dally stepped back enough to let me down.

I looked hard at him, at the way he stood straight like he had something worth bragging about, at the small scar just below his eye he'd gotten from a knife fight with Shepard years ago, at the look on his face, that same strange look he'd given me that night at the rodeo. I didn't know what he saw when he looked at me.

"I hate you."


	14. Chapter 14

"I hate you." I glowered through the downpour at him, water flooding my shoes. My belt was still undone. 

He opened his mouth, then thought better and closed it, eyes searching my face. A second later, he tried again.

"I give you that?" He tapped the side of his temple, meaning the bruise on mine.

"Yeah." I said flatly. The rain was letting up.

"That too?" The bandage poking out from under my shirt collar. I nodded.

"And--"

"Yeah."

Silence.

"You were pretty willing just now, for someone who hates me."

Heat creeped into my face before I had time to process what he'd said. Doing my belt just then seemed like something he'd make fun of me for, though it seemed necessary. I tried my best to look back, to stare him down... but ended up turning my head away, like always.

Dallas tilted his head to make eye contact with me, a smirk on his lips. "I'm right, ain't I? C'mon, Johnnycake."

Don't look at him. Don't let him win, don't give him the satisfaction--

Then his voice took on a tone I hadn't heard before. "I shouldn'ta done what I did. And I won't; not again, not ever."

Different voice, same old Dallas. It was just like him to say sorry without actually saying the word.

"Wouldya look at me, already? What, d'you want me to get down on my knees and beg? I said I wouldn't do it again." The irritation, the impatience; they were back, full force. That hadn't lasted long.

"Guessin' Darry got you all fixed up." Fingers tugging at the bandage visible near the base of my neck. I hadn't noticed him come closer.

"He's pretty pissed at you." Dally's so much taller than me; with half-lidded eyes I gazed at the zipper of his leather jacket. He was close enough for me to smell him again, that musky scent. It hurt so much, wanting to forgive him but knowing that didn't make any sense. I thought of Soda, of Two-Bit, Pony and Darry. I thought of the doctor at the hospital. I thought of Jake, of how forgiving Dally for all he'd done would be a slap in the face, of how all Jake McPherson really wanted was for Dallas to say to him what he was saying to me, to show that he gave a damn.

"Yeah, well." Dallas rubbed the gauze between his thumb and forefinger. "He doesn't scare me."

Dally and Darry both scared me, but for different reasons. Dal let go of the bandage and ruffled my hair almost affectionately, the way he'd been doing for as long as I could remember.

Suddenly I remembered why I'd run off in the first place. "My dad..."

"Held the bastard off long enough for you to make a clean getaway." Dally shrugged, looking disgusted. "What the fuck were you doing home, anyway? Darry try to make you go to school or somethin'?"

I didn't feel like I needed to justify myself. "What'd you do to him?"

"Nothin' you didn't see."

Complete and total disbelief overwhelmed me. "_Dally_."

"What? Christ, what do you care if I gave him a taste of his own goddamn medicine?" He was getting riled up again, acting like I was badgering him for he-said-she-said details.

"It ain't gonna make him stop." Thinking about how pissed my dad would be the next time I saw him made me shiver more than my damp clothes. "It ain't gonna teach him a lesson, it's just gonna--"

"What'd you want me to do, let him beat the shit outta you?" Dally snapped. It made me wonder if he realized how much of a hypocrite he was making out of himself.

I only shook my head.

The rain was finally letting up. I debated leaving, but there really wasn't anything else for me to do, anywhere else for me to go. To tell the truth, I couldn't believe he'd come back that soon, and I didn't want to lose him again.

"I'm goin' to Buck's. Come with me," he nodded in the direction of Merril's. Hesitation came naturally, as it always did whenever someone moved too quickly around me, whenever I get shaken awake, whenever I hear footsteps coming closer. I debated refusing, but when Dally shrugged like he'd lost interest--like the offer had expired--panic flooded my stomach and I hurried after him to catch up, matching his stride.

Letting him screw me against a wall hadn't been a good start to holding forgiveness above his head, anyway.

* * *

Thought I'd forgotten, didn't you? ;) 


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